Love under the Gooseberry Bush.

"Forbidden Love in the Age of  Chivalry"
Worth a re-run?

The king was in his counting house,
Counting out his money;
The queen was in her parlour,
Eating bread and honey.

The Princess in her pink boudoir
Was trying on her dresses
When in came Brother Ced-er-ic,
Full lips and blonded tresses.

He slipped his clothes off quick-er-ly
And ‘fore she could resist
Her newest lacy bodice was
Adorning Cedric’s chest.

Next, he took her flowing gown
And slipped it o’er his head.
Then her rich embroidered cape.
“It’s just not fair!” He said.

A silver tear escaped his eye,
While slipping on her pumps
“The leather, tin and mail we wear
Reduces us to frumps!”

Next he donned her feathered hat
While gazing at the glass.
And smiled in satisfaction
As he whispered, “You’ve got class!”

Then, turning on his patent heel
He called down for a horse.
“Side saddle, silver stirrups
And it must be grey, of course!”

So off they rode into the sun
The stable boy and he,
Holding hands so tenderly
In love, for all to see.

So over hill and dale they rode
Until Kings Cross they spied
And there they lived in happiness
Until the day they died.

Note: Kings Cross is the Gay Haven of 'Sinney', Australia.

First posted for Jingle, Sept 2010.
FOI: Next week, the adventure starts. The love of my life and I are starting out on our big adventure; living aboard an old yacht and sailing off, two kids in our mid seventies. We intend to document our adventures with photos and tales of cowardice as we rock hop along the coast of Eastern Australia, destination for now, Sydney, to see our kids and grand kids (new one due November) over Christmas and New Year. 

Under the Gooseberry Bush.

The Kiss.


Softest brush,
barely felt.
warm, dry,
inviting.


Then again,
open, wet.
Hot, sweet,
a promise.




In response to Gooseberry Bush Poetry.