Suzette Richards Poems
Your key does not fit the door.
We cannot meet anymore.
I have tried to say 'Goodbye',
but you will be the one to try
and keep this pledge as before.
The champagne stood chilled,
ready for our glasses to be filled.
The lights are turned down low
and the music playing is very slow.
This last meeting by me willed.
The coded knock on the door
signalled me to quickly pour
the glasses to half measure.
I let in my life's treasure.
Your presence fills my very core.
Our bodies hungrily entwine
fuelled by the ample wine.
Passions are ...
Building sandcastles on the beach,
they remain for now out of reach
of ever encroaching waves,
which noisily wash into caves
like a most unwelcome leach.
The tides will wash it away –
Eden will passionately sway
to the rhythm of seasonal wind.