The Mature Woman
A memory away from love.
One day, or a little later, a woman will come and for a while she will lead you up the high road where only the big boys play, far away from those past loves.
She will lead you into new challenges, long after youthful games were stopped. It is not untypical that this woman will have left another man’s shadow, yours, but more likely mine; for my shadow is long and shameful.
Be careful, that’s all.
She’s missed a lot of midnights, no longer crazy wild, older, left off being who she once believed, no longer to be heard purring when stroked just so, and too mature to lie down, leaving her imprint in the sand.
It doesn’t mean she won’t take the chance again if a door of sincerity and honesty, openness and love, is held wide and would willingly move backwards if she thought a man had that kind of time for her.
How might such a reality begin?
Trust me, she’s no longer willing to be turned over by the offer of a friendly back or belly, tired of being seduced, she prefers collecting strawberry smiles for a week.
Not every woman who sleeps alone is an abandoned idea of love. She will choose another path, going where every new reality begins with the word, hello.
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