Stripping Bare

How easy to perceive the bear
In his lair,
Waiting for the girl who, having tentatively climbed the stair
Enters there.
He doesn’t care
And will have his way
The wagging fingers say.

Wine is opened
And trite
Words at night
Are spoken,
But there is no force.
The evening runs it’s course.
More trite words are said
Then, bed.

Morning breaks.
Her leave she takes
With a kiss on the cheek, not lips
That strips
The situation bare
Yet there
Is in that peck, perhaps a kind of care.