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the park bench

Poetry By: dreaming of you
Poetry


there is a park near where i live , with a huge boating lake as it's centrepiece . at the far end of the lake , lies a stone bench , it has been there for centuries and is surrounded by a beautiful rose garden .
it is widely rumoured that a courting couple would spend hours on this bench , during the time of oliver cromwell , she a fervent royalist , he a roundhead captain ,
here they would feed the ducks and swans and engage in the pleasures of courtship , which have changed so little over the centuries .
so many couples who have sat on this bench over the years , have claimed to have felt a presence , some even claim to have seen the spirits of the roundhead and his lady . i won't go that far but it just might be , that there is something strangely erotic about sitting on that park bench .


Submitted:Jul 28, 2008    Reads: 298    Comments: 7    Likes: 5   


the vibrant colours of sunset

the smell of newly mown grass

the warmth of a fine summers evening

sat on a bench where so many summers have passed.

feeding the birds in the water

so many flock to within inches of our feet

greedilypecking atour breadcrumbs

savouring each morsel and treat.

we have not spoken for ages

just walked neath the tree's and the flowers

holding hands in a silence

that a true romance will devour.

rested , we reach for each other

our kiss with intensity grows

there's a spark igniting between us

that all new lovers will know.

suddenly , she develops a feeling

someone is watching close by

i search every inch of the horizon

but nothing catches my eye .

i turn to offer reassurance

to take her hand as we leave

but she pulls me closely to her

this is a kiss in which i believe .

she respond's so wildly to my caressing

this is not the shy little creature i knew

there's something inside her possessing

telling her my love is true.

scattered clothing hangs from the roses

she writhes on the cold stone bench

as my hands explore her beauty

our kissing turns to french.

i enter her lady garden

giving of all that i am

she bites and claws like a wild cat

yet i am her first ever man.

her scream's echo around us

more ! more ! she's begging for more

demanding to take the lead from me

we roll down on the floor .

she rides me me with a passion

demanding i treat her as a wench

she's mouthing words that shock me

is this the power of the old stone bench ?





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