Waiting On A Female.

Typical of her sex she takes her time,

tripping along, at last, when it suits her,

for this man's output caring not one damn.

Not that I am in a state of waiting,

am in any sense watchful, impatient.

No. I just keep myself in readiness.

Should she show up, I am at her service.

Still, I might look forward with some wonder

to what her next visitation could bring,

to what, with her coming, will be composed,

it ever, in truth, as much a surprise

to  me as it might prove for anyone.

Oh, she has become outrageous of late

and she may grow more so. Well, I hope so.

Just so long as no-one thinks to blame me,

purely passive me, the mere medium.

Hold! Who's this? Herself, turning the corner?

God, what a sight! The state of her! Shameless!