The Raven

The Raven

She carried her high heels in her hand
Crossing the dark damp Village Strand
At eleven o'clock looking a bit of a mess
Wearing a thin black party dress
A tattered handbag made out of lace
A sad story written on her pretty black face
Two large eyes peered out from the girl
Betraying a hunger under the curl
I saw what I wanted, there in plain sight
She needed a place to spend the night
We traded what we each had to barter
It seemed fair and right at least for a starter
I offered my bath, shampoo for her hair
Towels and perfumes to let her smell fair
She bathed and came to me wrapped in a robe
Her breasts warm and full, amply exposed
Her long pink teat looked so elastic
Sucking on them was truly fantastic
Her cunt invited me, moist with charm
I entered her slowly to do her no harm
Strangers in a night of passion
Making slow love, now out of fashion
Simultaneous orgasms left us asleep
Exhausted I dreamed she was mine to keep
She paused for that night, disappeared at ten
Never to pass my way again
I think of her often, look for her on the street
Though years have passed we never meet
Perhaps in her womb was my only child
I wonder alone, completely beguiled
We never own those we love
Even when the key fits like a glove