Both Sides of the Glass
By cdcooper
Both Sides of the GlassChristopher Cooper IShe stood bent over her deskTight sultry shorts.That squeezed outHer bronze thighs and calves.Heels anchored to the floorBy white spiked sandals.My lecherous stare causes herTo nervously adjust her bra strap back under Her sleeveless blouse.Quickly she returns to work Hiding her embarrassment. I find myself ashamed not for looking But for being caught.A man of fifty Should be more suave and debonair,Not fall victim to youthful male errorsThat puts his dignity to the test.And yetI never want to be that distinguished.IIHe strut’s over to his deskWith his jeans showcasing his tight derriere.I imagine his washboard abs,Us alone on a sandy beach,His eyes looking deep into mineAs he gently strokes his fingers through my hair. My gaze finds his eyesAnd we are no longer in my imaginary land. He gives me a disgruntled nod.I feel the crimson fire rise in my faceAs I return to work embarrassed and rebuffed.I am ashamed for being caught.A woman of fiftyShould carry herself with more classNot fall victim to school girl giddiness Which puts her counterfeit virtue in doubtAnd yetI never want to be that virtuous. Written August 27th, 2001 © on Aug 27 2001 02:26 PM PST 0 • 9
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"Both Sides of the GlassChristopher Cooper IShe stood bent over her deskTight sultry shorts.That squeezed outHer bronze thighs and calves.Heels anchored to the floorBy white spiked sandals.My lecherous stare causes herTo nervously adjust her bra strap back under Her sleeveless blouse.Quickly she returns to work Hiding her embarrassment. I find myself ashamed not for looking But for being caught.A man of fifty Should be more suave and debonair,Not fall victim to youthful male errorsThat puts his dignity to the test.And yetI never want to be that distinguished.IIHe strut’s over to his deskWith his jeans showcasing his tight derriere.I imagine his washboard abs,Us alone on a sandy beach,His eyes looking deep into mineAs he gently strokes his fingers through my hair. My gaze finds his eyesAnd we are no longer in my imaginary land. He gives me a disgruntled nod.I feel the crimson fire rise in my faceAs I return to work embarrassed and rebuffed.I am ashamed for being caught.A woman of fiftyShould carry herself with more classNot fall victim to school girl giddiness Which puts her counterfeit virtue in doubtAnd yetI never want to be that virtuous...."