Again she rose at dawn,
she always was the one
who had the fortitude
to rise and shine, at six
as if it were required, by
unwritten rules of married life.
A mass of white gray hair
confronted her as a reflection
of age and life's shenanigans,
there would be double doses of
rejuvenating Henna, soon.
She heard his plaintiff snore,
and glanced but briefly
into the room where he would stay
until enticed by odours of Moccona.
She turned and covered now
his bony foot, it must be cold
not ready for the day's routine.
Some fifty years had come and gone,
each morning it had been,
by order of some universal force
the same damn foot that peeked.
She'd never failed to mother it,
regardless of the season
and of his depth of sleep.
But always with a tiny, wicked smile.
This was so sweet it burned my eyes Herbert! lol You are a lucky man indeed. And a very talented one too. Smiling at those cold tootie pegs! Just the sort of thing any loving wife would do. Tai
Herbs, I thought this was going to be a sad number, but I've actually found it sweet and tender and rather humorous in places ('double dose of henna', for instance) . For me, though, there is something of an 'undercurrent' of sadness in the piece. I think it's obvious why. An enjoyable read. Et toi, mon cher Herbs? Comment vas-tu? G.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely poem about the contentment and routine of a long married couple. Companionship comes in many forms. Very sweet write! Hugs, Dee