And they stood in the waves - <br />he with his camera, <br />she without her clothes, <br />nervous and shivery - <br />but determined <br />to play it cool. <br /> <br />The pics were ordinary, <br />nothing out of the box, <br />but she kept them <br />and forty years later <br />one adorns her lover’s study door <br />with others of his mates, <br />dearly departed mostly <br />(so many of them too) . <br /> <br />He was her mentor, <br />brilliant and irritatingly obsessed <br />with his work and her. <br />He taught her much. <br />She adored him - <br />especially playing Lady Anne to his Richard - <br />but never fancied him, <br />not like that. <br /> <br />Though one night <br />after his wife left <br />and left him bereft, <br />she did succumb <br />(and never regretted it) . <br /> <br />Not lust, but compassion <br />prompted her to open her legs. <br /> <br />She couldn’t believe the urgency <br />of his need <br />and the tears <br />of his joy <br />afterwards. <br /> <br />Today <br />when her other half <br />flirts with young girls, <br />she takes comfort <br />from remembrances <br />of one <br />whom she loved <br />but never fancied. <br />Of one, <br />too old - <br />who really loved her.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sugar-daddy-2/
