In Good Time

Baby, I get weak

For pretty girls with messy hair,

With wicked smiles,

And 'come hither' stares. 

She comes and stands there,

Says 'fix my stockings',

Shakes her arse,

She knows I'm looking. 

There's a madness,

Deep behind her eyes.

I want my hand,

Between her thighs. 

I want my madness,

To merge together,

To know we can be

Insane forever. 

But I get close,

She runs away. 

She hides, yet

On other days,

She almost seems,

To want to speak her mind,

But can't. Maybe

One day. In good time.