Pillow Talk

pillow.jpg

When lately have you said –
“I love you”.
I’ve had gentlemen aplenty
lovers by their score
and feverish rakes

all pleadin’ for my hand
or at the very least
that singular favour
e’ery woman is endow’d with
and can give if she so desire.

They pli’d me with tender words
meant to stir my heart or
make me know I was desired
even admir’d but what of you,
where are your words?

Words that would nourish a woman;
have you just once held my hand?
And told me I was –
Beautiful?Ravishin’? Charmin’?
Graceful? Warm? Soft or luscious?

Nay! Nay! You ply me with arguments
like a naggin’ child seekin’ sweets.
Nay! Nay! Your tongue has strangl’d
Loves’ tender words – a womans’ vanity
by their hundreds, by their thousands.

Come on then! Speak them to me now
that I may a samplin’
of your treasur’d rhymes hear
pretend ‘m a queen – a high born lady
you my lordly suitor.

Come pledge your troth –
vow me your ideal of womanhood
let I your wife’s pulse race
your lovers’ breast ache
her eyes moist with tears.

Come on! Speak them
as she hears her hubby’s words
set themselves like tiny swift
barb’d arrows into her flesh, speak them
that I may with savour hear.

Copyright © 2004. Ugo Nkwoala. All rights reserved.

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