In My Tent

I love her,
and she loves me.
She is always writing me letters,
and I respond.
Still, I am not perfect.
She is so far away.
and in the midst of the wounded camp,
I see her,
and she looks back.
All of a sudden,
I cannot remember the last time I saw my wife.
Do not get me wrong.
She is the only women I will ever love.
So she walks toward me.
As we start kissing,
we make our way into my tent.
She undoes her hair,
before taking off her pants.
The two of us lie in my tent Naked,
While my wife does not have a clue.

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.