Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
Andrew Marvell To His Coy Mistress
Darling, switch off your tablet for a sec.
I want to touch the swan-curve of your neck.
My love, turn softly from your phone’s embrace.
I want to feel the landscape of your face.
Had we but world and time enough, my dear,
I’d like to kiss the conch shell of your ear.
Had we but world and time enough, dear heart,
I’d like to fondle every body part.
Had you but world and time to look at me,
You’d find a big fan of your corsetry.
Release your fingers from those tiny keys.
I want to sit upon your perfect knees.
Sweet lady, lift your eyes up from the screen.
My thoughts about you verge on the obscene.
Your constant blogging fills me with despair.
I fantasise about your underwear.
Is all that cyber-hugging so fantastic?
I want to test the tug of your elastic.
But now I see you’re otherwise engaged
Texted, tweeted, skyped and pinged and paged
I’ll simply dream about you nude in bed
And message you and email you instead.
Are you available another day?
That’s all for now. (I love you, by the way.)
Robert Wilkinson is a poet who hales from the midlands in the UK. He loves reading, writing, walking, travelling, poetry, gardening, cookery, nature, art, music, and Marmite. He is also interested in languages, philosophy, myth and religion; and Buddhism in particular holds a strong appeal. He can be found blogging about all of those things at The Solitary Walker.