I sit at home <br />at my desk alone <br />as I used to do <br />on many sunday afternoons <br />when you came back to me, <br />your arms ached for me, <br />and your arms would close me in <br />though they smelled of other women. <br /> <br />I think of you <br />on Sunday afternoons. <br /> <br />Your sweet head would bow, <br />like a child somehow, <br />down to me - <br />and your hair and your eyes were wild. <br /> <br />We would embrace on the floor- <br />You see my back´s still sore. <br />You knew how easily I bruised, <br />It´s a soreness I would never lose. <br /> <br />I think of you <br />on Sunday afternoons.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunday-afternoons/
