The Seduction of April

I put on some soft music and turn the lights down low
and dress up in my negligee;
a harlot good to go.

Candles on the table, wine waiting to pour
Boeuf Bourguignon in the oven,
listening for the door.

He crashes through at midnight, the candles have gone out.
He sneers at carboned food and wine:
“Woman? Pour a stout.”

Soft music drowned by TV, lights turned up to see
he’s brought a little something
a present just for me.

“I got it down the pub,” he says, holding out a ring
A tear forms. “Does this mean?” “Yes,” he says,
“I’ve got a raging hard-on. Will you do the decent thing?”