Organized by Collection
InnocenceInnocence in that little blue uniform.
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Skirt to the knee, tie up tight-
Modest, pale face and blonde ponytail.
As kids, we kept our hungers to ourselves.
The skirt moves up an inch,
Our bodies move and change
Busts burst out of our shirts,
Trousers stretch at the inseam.
Dark eyes, an unnatural blush,
Schoolgirl crushes, and newfound courage,
Firsts and seconds are kissed and told,
But everything stops at the first button undone.
Lipstick, hair down, skirt midthigh.
We dance at night and yawn in the mornings,
Daydream in class and kiss in the bushes
Girls ache to be thinner,
Boys ache to be bigger,
Everyone wanting, exploring- buttons undone.
Below the belt, but tell no-one.
Secrets kept, mouths shut.
Make-up smudged, hair ruffled, skirt at our ankles.
Bodies meshed together, sweating,
So shy before, but no shame now,
Best friends, boyfriends,
No-one and someone,
What's-his-name from last night,
Blurred face and sleeping through classes,
And everyone, everyone knows.
Innocence in that
The Old Man's WIndowThe old man lay in his hospital bed
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His doctor at his side,
Saying gently as he could
"Sir, you, quite soon, will die."
The old man could barely turn his head,
Let alone sit up to reply
So the doctor said, "I'm sorry, sir,"
And left the old man to die.
A bright young man came strolling in
A book of stories in his hand
He said "I have come to read to you,
From my tales across the land."
The old man closed his eyes and said,
"A story would be fine,
I'd love to hear about your travels
Before I cross the line."
So the boy sat on the old man's bed
And opened up the book
Skimming through the contents
And starting at the story's hook.
Halfway through, the young man glanced
At the old and withered face
Then looked back down upon the page
And found he'd lost his place.
The old man smiled as best he could
And laid a hand upon the boy
"How's the weather, son?" he asked.
"Some shine would bring me joy."
Surprised, but happy to oblige
The boy looked to his right
Sad for the sweet old man