I Married A Somnambulist Poem by Thomas Vaughan Jones

The hall clock struck twelve, I retired to bed,
put out the light and laid down my head,
whispered goodnight as we both turned to sleep
sank into slumber so restful and deep.

The night moved along and the world was at peace,
so restful and quiet, all sounds seemed to cease.
Not even the sigh of a cough or a snore
but all was not well, for at quarter past four….

….I awoke with a start, and my heart missed a beat.
What was that noise that I heard in the street?
It wasn’t a burglar, for burglars don’t knock,
they just stick this ‘thingummyjig’ in the lock.

Someone was tapping, some timid wee mouse,
the sounds seemed to echo all over the house.
Persistent, peculiar, who could it be?
I put on my slippers and hurried to see.

I opened the door to the shock of my life,
for there, on the doorstep, asleep, was my wife.
It seemed that the lady had turned to sleep walking,
but true to her form, the girl never stopped talking.

She launched right away to a bitter invective
that locking her out was my major objective,
haughtily passed me with nose in the air,
brushed me aside and went straight up the stair.

She seemed so convinced that there wasn’t a doubt
that I was to blame because she’d got locked out.
Jumped into bed as a matter of course
muttering something about a divorce.

Disconsolate, locking up, all on my own,
wondering how I could ever atone,
when once I stepped back through our bedroom door.
all I could hear was the sounds of her snore.