She waited for him-

(she knew she’d always wait for him)

even when she shouldn’t engage

all the lights having gone down

the players now up on the stage

the story acted out on her heart

easily read for all audiences smart

wearing no frilly frocks of french lace

or the make up of a greasepaint face

nor the colors of pastel painted scenes

no- hers was the click of locked doors

and caught moments of time in-between

but kissed deep for passion’s alight

on the wings of white doves in the night

where no time can ever be spent

talking of some true love that’s heaven sent

when hearing the rustle of skirts in the hall

alas- scorched lips part for propriety’s call

 but for these quick seconds of desire

that remain chained up like a rabid dog

she dares to touch upon a raging fire

destined to leave innocent ladies agog

with that one man- the one not seen

remaining just outside of the frame

who says he has nothing to give

but whom she says she will love

 just the same