Based on "Winter" by William ShakespeareWhen ghastly melons guard the door,And coloured sugars come by the bag,And fields of grass wear green no more,And leaves begin to wilt and sag. When the bones of nature litter our floor,Then Jack grows into a witchly hag,Makeup and wig Come out at last, While greedy children knock at the gate.When days grow short and nights. I 'wanted ' to feel that slide.In the low light of the lamp we leave lit at night I watched as unbidden and almost remote from me my fingers traced the line of her back bone, gently to the furrow of her bottom. She sighed gently and wriggled a little under my touch. He stirred again, more purposefully now as he realised his time approached.I used both hands and ran my finger tips down again, this time tracing on down, over the nether cheeks to the cross that marks the spot that followed through.Read More
