‘I begged you not to go to the lake <br />For I knew that he'd be there, <br />Whenever we'd go to the lake before <br />He would come out, sit and stare, <br />He lived in a cabin, made of wood, <br />Was a woodsman, through and through, <br />But the hairs rose up on the back of my neck <br />Each time that he stared at you.' <br /> <br />‘You wore that little bikini top <br />And the g-string pulled up tight, <br />I said that you'd catch your death out there, <br />It was cold, and nearly night, <br />But I saw you bridle at every glance <br />As he sat on his porch out there, <br />Then you swayed on down to the waters edge: <br />‘To get a fresh breath of air.'' <br /> <br />‘If only you could have seen yourself, <br />You looked like a sad man's dream, <br />While he would twitch on his garden seat <br />Like a cat that had choked on cream. <br />I'd call you in, but you wouldn't come <br />Though I'd watch through the window pane, <br />And you would titter, and he would laugh <br />As you wiggled his way again.' <br /> <br />‘What makes you fall for these burly men, <br />Could it be that they're so uncouth? <br />Their manners say they haven't a brain <br />So could it be faded youth? <br />You'll never be twenty-one again, <br />Nor even remember when, <br />And if they knew what you'd want to do <br />They'd hide in the fields and fen.' <br /> <br />‘I begged you not to go to the lake <br />I can't trust you on your own, <br />The police have got your description now <br />We'll have to be moving home. <br />His jugular was punctured they said, <br />There wasn't a drop in his veins, <br />And yes, you're ten years younger again <br />But a hundred and ten remains! ' <br /> <br />27 October 2014<br /><br />David Lewis Paget<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/teaser-2/
