Here my friend....a piece that not only has the infamous squeak but also the dangerous broken strand of old wicker furniture! See, it wasn't that hard!


The Old Wicker Bench

Finally after all those many nights
I see you in the moonlight
Your eyes look into my soul
I look at the stars
Thanking the gods for you
Under a giant tree we sit
An old wicker bench
The one on which my father professed his love
You sit before me
Your white satin dress flows around your legs
I kneel
A bright diamond reflects the soft light
As my father did I share my love
Asking you to share your life with me
Praying that your answer will be yes
As the ring slides on you finger
You move forward
Your lips wanting a kiss
Suddenly
A squeak comes from beneath your dress
Then another
And another
Each one louder than the last
I hold my amusement as our lips meet
I rise
Your rise and we kiss
It is only then
In that romantic moment
I notice that your dress remained
Caught on a broken piece of wicker
It doesn't matter
You didn't notice
As you said yes and kissed me again
Your dress stayed on that old wicker bench
Blowing in the breeze
I look into your eyes and thank the gods
That it was a warm night.



Poetry by Rob Taylor
Read 813 times
Written on 2007-02-10 at 00:02

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NotaDeadPoet
I like your free verse better than my ode . . . the story is great

Ode duh wicker webs we'd weave
when foist we practice off duh sleeve
instead o' writin' off duh cuff
"bout wicker . . . an answer to yours coming.
2007-02-10



Wiicker furniture seems to be very much in fashion on the bay, these days...
Wicked wicker here :)
2007-02-10