Yin And Yang Ii Poem by Morgan Michaels

'Whoa- too much information
I cried, stopping her mouth
but succumbed many times
as the thunder rolled overhead.

Then I remember nothing.
In the morning she was gone.
The house was a bloody mess.
There was no fresh dress.

The doorbell rang. Who was it but Yin?
'Where have you been, my heart,
I complained.
'Sit down- welcome home again.'

'It's good to be home, ' she sighed,
'Yes, I'll do that, but first these bottles, ugh'
she cried, straightening the rug
and setting the kettle on for tea.