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Poetry By: dadio


Submitted:Oct 28, 2010    Reads: 281    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Miss Dunne the maid lies
On the chaise longue and
Relaxes and listens to see if
The master is about in his

Study above his daughter
Hazel is out thank Christ
For that always moaning
About this being wrong or

That not done right or her
Hair not being done so so
And giving her the snooty
Stare thinking herself oh so

Superior and not trusting but
Always peeping each thing
She does unlike the master
Who considers her in his small

Ways and playfully touches
And pats her behind and leaves
Her gifts and small posies of
Flowers and watches her as

She moves about his room
Dusting and polishing and
Moving his books and papers
And he studies her every move

The way her hands and fingers
Fondle his books and how her
Eyes read the covers and how
She smiles and gives him the

Eye but now she rests and thinks
Of the moment the ticking clock
The open book of the master
Beside her the note inside the

Invitation in his neat script to
Come to his room that night let
None see you come he says be
Soft of foot and gentle of tread

On the passage floor to sneak
Slowly to his door to make love
In his bed she turns the note
Over all is settled and read.


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