Sarahs Visit

In days of old, as nighttime grew cold,

approaching October’s ending

Back when a carriage was drawn with a horse

And nary a marriage knew respite, divorce–

So a bad choice at twenty meant lifelong remorse–

A woman named Sarah lay dying...

When she was a bride, tall and wide-eyed,

her beauty and innocence blending

A hopefulness mildly spread through the room

Her pretty eyes, childlike, stared at her groom,

Not ever imagining all of the gloom

This man would bring, nor the sighing

In the hell to which she was descending

In marriage, a fondness should grow with the bond

between two enjoined as a couple

And Sarah was loyal to her new lover

But all this was spoiled when Sarah discovered

Her husband was prone to set eyes on some others

And arrange frequent trysts, and dark meetings...

So Sarah stayed home in her prison alone

as her heart grew more calloused, less supple

The first time he cheated a bitterness started,

But as he repeated, all kindness departed

Until she was left without joy, sadly martyred

By her husband’s stray eyes, and his cheating

And thus she resented her nuptials

Thus decades went on, all tenderness gone,

‘til a horrific end to the hurting–

While her husband slept with another man’s wife

That other man crept in the room with a knife

And thus ended Sarah’s long marital strife

Her widowhood bringing a blessing–

No longer in mind and body confined

to a liar so prone to deserting...

Yet as Sarah pondered the weighty, sad cost:

Her husband had wandered, but she bore the loss

Her once-vibrant body now aged and lost

And Sarah was left second-guessing

Of unfulfilled passion and flirting

She first took delight in that time of the night

when candles were snuffed out and smoldered

When woman and man would slowly undress

When fingers had ran through her hair and caressed

Her shoulder and spine and her full nakedness

And his tongue had deliciously tasted

Her ruby red lips, her navel, her hips,

while fingernails dug in his shoulders

And when he was thrusting, her legs opened wide

She would be lusting for more from inside

But without the trusting, whatever he tried

Brought bitterness–overtures wasted;

The misanthrope slowly grew colder

Her husband now slain–she didn’t complain—

but widowhood woke thoughts long-perished:

Nights when she savored the raw, musty taste,

Of sweet carnal-flavored kisses in haste,

And long, muffled moaning while pounding hearts raced–

Yet all this too quickly diminished...

She wondered if now, though older, somehow...

no, that would be far too garish

Though no longer tethered by his cheating ways

Her face had turned leathery, gone was the praise

Of her angelic, natural beauty, and days

Of reckless lovemaking had finished–

And gone was that quaking she cherished

With death at her door, she remembered once more

those feelings of lust, almost lingering...

A couple of years of marital bliss–

Then decades of tears when things were amiss–

Then decrepit solitude, until... now this!

A sad circumspectual musing

While dying away on the thirty-first day

of October–what was death bringing?

Perhaps on the morrow her bitter-filled rue,

Her sadness, her sorrow, all mercifully through

And peace in the afterlife, long overdue

Away from her husband’s abusing–

And the pining for love that kept stinging

Then the Reaper of Doom entered the room;

she looked at him, fully resigning:

Never did fear or reluctance show there,

Nor did a teardrop signify care,

Instead she was dignified, ready, prepared,

Almost eager, she welcomed his visit...

Yet she lifted her hand with a halting command

as he strode toward where she was reclining

One last request, she wanted to ask–

A final behest, a singular task–

A chance for a promise, before Death unmasked,

And Death paused, and ask her, “What is it?”

And Sara’s long-dimmed face grew shining

“Was it too much? To ask for the touch

of a lover who stayed on the narrow?

Why was I made? To live through the pain

Of a lover who strayed, his fidelity feigned?

And him live so long that I’d never regain

My youthful and unfulfilled vigor?

I knew no revenge, for another avenged

the waywardness of my old barrow

Yet maybe you’d dare to grant me the chance

To answer a prayer for a faithful romance

Before she’s too feeble and old for a dance...

Couldn’t my ghost pull the trigger?

Now appease me, then come take my marrow.”

So Sarah, in fact, and Death, made a pact,

that on this night she would be measured

Out singular powers–for justice–between

The six o’clock hour and midnight, to clean

One hundred times, for each Halloween

The upcoming century offered...

This chance to give hope helped Sarah to cope,

even helped Sarah to treasure

These moments that marked her life’s ending...

And so she embarked, descending

To the abyss, with deal pending...

Thus Sarah took what Death had proffered,

And died with a smile of pleasure.

Ninety and nine years had gone by

since Sarah had last lay there dying

But all that she gained, that night on her bed

Had multiplied pain, and anguish and dread,

As each year she searched for despair, but instead

She only found couples in bliss

This year–her last chance!–to offer romance,

and Sarah was panicked and trying

To find some sick cad who was having his fun,

Not caring how badly his wife might be stung–

But he would stop cheating once Sarah was done!

Aye, one last long illicit kiss

With Sarah immodestly spying...

Then Sarah’s heart leapt as she quietly crept

through a house where a mother was weeping

And dutifully, cleverly wiping her eyes

So children could never suspect or realize

The hurt in her heart on this night of surprise;

And she started her regal costuming...

Before, in an inn, with a buzz from his gin,

her husband was lustily peeping

At a woman he liked, unbuttoning her shirt

She cooed as he hiked up her short denim skirt

They kissed drunken kisses–he fondled, she’d flirt,

With no idea danger was looming

As Sarah awoke from her sleeping

The cheated-on left, her heart now bereft,

hoping to find consolation–

Out with her child collecting some sweets,

She beamed at his smile, he’d shout “Trick or Treat!”

Occasionally nibble on something to eat

And she almost forgot her despair...

But at each new home, she felt more alone,

her heart would fill with desolation:

For each time they knocked at somebody’s door

Meant further around the block than before

And closer to home, where her husband would snore

Or worse, be awake, when they’d get there...

And, if so, she’d crave isolation

Would she be sad? Or maybe be glad?

If she knew that out among neighbors

A spiteful, sly ghost from a hundred years back

Was bent on a most horrific attack

With steely resolve and a heart colored black

Underneath her cute masquerade

Yes, Sarah–dressed like a prostitute might,

seductively offering favors

She stood coquettishly, sporting a grin

He looked at her fetishly, ushered her in

She lifted an eyebrow, as if daring to sin

“Trick or treat,” she whispered, then made

The start of a century’s labors.

His heart quickly raced in her sexy embrace,

and she asked him, “Would you be willing?

I have enough candy, but still I’d like kisses

I’m feeling quite randy and you look delicious...”

Then flirtingly grabbing his scalp, almost vicious

He couldn’t believe his good luck!

He’d already scored in the hotel before,

and now this young nymph was just thrilling

She started to grind as she opened her mouth

Their tongues intertwined as her hands headed south

Then they went to the bedroom, bypassing the couch

His blown away mind, thunderstruck...

She, all too ready for killing.

And as things got hot, he simply forgot

about his wife, guiltlessly petting:

She peeled a lacy bra off of her breast

Then in a racy move, straddled with zest

Doing a pantiless grind on his chest

Her lust was not only for slaying...

Although Sarah hated this man, she gyrated,

her sex somehow anxiously wetting

So long a time had passed since she knew

This lust in her mind–and her other parts, too–

She opted for pleasure before she was through.

Just like a mantis, now praying

She resolved to use him on the bedding

After disrobing while fingers were probing,

she opted for more aggression

She started to tie him up to the bed

He never asked why, but relished instead

Her kinky demands, until her voice said,

“What’s this ring on your hand? You’re immoral!”

She acted surprised (“I didn’t realize!”),

then added, “I’ll teach you a lesson:

Married boys shouldn’t be cheating with me...”

Her ominous voice suggesting that she

Had something in mind while he couldn’t get free

But she straddled his head for some oral

And he gave a long licking session

Once he began, his velvet tongue ran

and set her clitoris on fire

Only at first did she find it relaxing,

For then came a thirst for some hardy climaxing

Her long-unquenched lust unabashedly waxing

And then pleasure, in waves and ripples...

Too many to count, before she’d dismount

to copulate with this liar

Her pleasure-filled groans were intense and so hot

That, lost in her moaning, she almost forgot

The reason she came, but, alas, she did not

But first she’d ride, pinching her nipples

And try to get even higher

She would enjoy riding this toy,

but not let him have satisfaction

Therefore she readied her fingernail claws

Dragging them steadily over his jaws

Down his throat, and his chest, failing to pause

Before she scratched downward once more...

He writhed in pain, thus she attained

the desired adverse reaction

Then, as he quivered in pain and in fright

She smiled and shivered ecstatic delight

And rode on in frenzy, on Halloween night;

Aroused by the sight of his blood, she adored

Him helplessly begging, in traction

Her hips would thrust to satiate lust,

but the man felt an awkward sensation:

He thought he’d at least get off by the ride

But, strangely, this beast, all pleasure denied!

As if some of the nerves in his brain had been fried

Leaving him feeling castrated

And as she rode boldly a nightmare unfolded,

giving him further frustration

No longer in raging, nubile disguise–

She’s rapidly aging in front of his eyes!

Hair quickly thinning, and wrinkly thighs

But still she rode on, jubilated

And moaned with anticipation

The man lay in terror, sick by his error,

watching this demoness shudder!

Now getting close to her final orgasm

Her hands on his throat, him choking in spasm

Then pleasure-filled screams of an eerie phantasm...

But ere she left him, she had called,

“Can I explain? All of the pain,

you gave to your child’s mother:

What were you thinking? Did you not care?

Was not an inkling of loyalty there?

She deserves more than your piggish despair!”

And as the temptress dissolved,

His life ebbed away with a sputter

As he lost his life, his much-troubled wife

was at one last place, somewhat weary

A cordial, polite man answered the bell

His smile was bright, he was handsome as well

“Such a contrast,” she sadly thought to herself,

Remembering home–her cruel, thoughtless spouse:

Her spouse, so revolting, that prior to bolting

she struck up a talk, just to tarry:

His manner was kind; he had gentleness, grace,

He nurtured her mind in so many ways,

Brought feelings not felt since her younger days...

As she and her son returned to their house

She thought, “What a shame who I married...”

At home, in the gloom, she peered in the room,

and there saw her husband napping

“Maybe he’ll sleep through the night,” she said,

“I don’t want that creep with me in a bed.”

So she quietly readied a cot instead

Then dreamed of the man who’d been talking...

She dreamt she returned in a dress that burned:

shimmering, silky skirt flapping

He let her come in, but his motives stayed pure

She had to begin to seductively lure

And still he was shy, reluctant, unsure

So she guided his mouth up her stockings–

But woke up when he started lapping

And there, in the dark, bathed in sweat, pounding heart,

she got up to drink; she’d been panting

Returning to bed, she peeked through his door

Tilted her head, expecting a snore

Or breathing at least... but she waited... some more...

And still she did not hear him breathing

But she was so tired, thus she retired,

tiptoeing, lest he start ranting

She shrugged off his stillness, there on her cot

“Maybe some illness,” she sleepily thought

Then hoped she’d continue the dream she had wrought

And soon, she was happily sleeping

‘Til morning light fell on her, slanting

November’s first morn was already born

before she had realization

That he was dead, and Sarah had reaped

(The coroner simply said, “Died in his sleep;”

His insurer then laid her a nest egg to keep)

And the pain from his cheating eroded

And once that was gone, it didn’t take long

before she had invitation:

A chance to dine with the kindly man

Then after some time, a romance began

Their subsequent project? Wedding plans

As a passionate love exploded

And attraction gave way to elation

And when they were wed, the two went to bed,

where she, overwhelmed by caresses

How did this man so make her swoon

With passionate hands on their honeymoon?

(She couldn’t believe she could climax so soon)

And yet she had more, then another...

The tension was growing, the oil was flowing,

he lapped up her honey-sweet messes

He gently fondled twixt teeth and tongue

Her body responded with moans from her lungs

But she wanted more, the more that she sung

And he, an obliging lover

Gave more and more, almost endless

His rhythm was steady, once she was ready,

until she became satiated:

His hardness, her wetness–exquisitely sealed,

Her body’s needs met, enmeshing with zeal,

Then, regaining senses, she started to feel

His body begin its ascending...

His breathing grew faster, until–at last!—

the time she anticipated:

His whole body trilling, in a high span

One with her, filling her, draining the man–

Until he was calm, and they gently held hands–

This rite of love quietly ending,

Their marriage now consummated

And night after night, ‘neath the starlight,

their honeymoon never ended

Two naked bodies together stayed warm,

Or sometimes a naughty fantasy formed

That never stayed long in the fantasy realm

And no evening ever was wasted...

And early each morning new smiles were born,

and the joy they had–unpretended!

The reason their sex became so ensnaring?

A deep respect added to trust they were sharing:

Tenderly listening, always caring,

Until they’d be craving a taste of

The loyal mate they had befriended

There was still laughter decades after;

their love life never grew starker:

One warm autumn day that came to pass

The two lovers lay in secluded grass

The virile lad on top of his lass

Til both had their fill, they made love...

With panting subsiding they both were realizing

their headboard: a granite grave marker!

The sunshine and breeze, the warmth in the air,

The bright autumn trees with their foliage fare,

Who could have blamed them for lingering there?

At a tombstone that read: In Memory Of

Sarah Isobel Barker