Too Much, But I Will Welcome You

She wore a starched and stiff, turn off in type to real men, a uniform prescribed as if they would be happy on a scale from one to ten with just a five, if that. No cap at least, like they would wear on wards, the ones that laid their hands on thin as well as those who dared be fat all in the name of altruistic patient care, no one could know the origin of those demands. Oh yes, the Lab, it did demand real respect, all samples went to ground there to be screened, they'd look in microscopes, they'd measure and dissect until the clock for lunch or end of dayshift intervened. I took her home one day and used impatient hands to rip the fabric of her bosom in a rage, I think that youth is when no youngster understands that life can never be a limelight covered stage. Today, when candles light the ruby red of wine and hasty hands have given way to gentle touch, I may not realise the treasure that is mine but it is clear that I've been given way too much.