The Worthy Opponent

On rousing, she snook in beside me.
A thief, at work in the night.
She’s come, to steal all my virtue.
With weapons, of fear and delight.

Femme fatale, she is in the making.
Fine scented, and soft to the touch.
Luxurious legs, and great bosom.
You’ld never, imagine as much.

I say, I’m up early this morning.
No time, to dwindle and play.
She winks, and breathes ever closer.
Then whispers, wait awhile, stay.

I fiddle, with corner of cover.
Well, what’s one more turn or a toss.
I shrug, my shoulder at fortune.
My stone, will gather more moss.

For now, I am back in the rapture.
My beloved, has snagged me once more.
One hour, or three go by now.
No richer, I’m left with the poor.

I’m beaten, my mind unforgiving.
Opportunity, has come and just gone.
I’m staring, long into lunchtime.
Those minutes, hustled away, a con.

Depression, she’s so very clever.
Just preying, on buttons of weak.
Pulling me, back to the pillow.
My purpose, I continue to seek. 

By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020

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