When I looked over my shoulder
I knew then that the honeymoon was all over,
As she laid curled up on the bed in a heap
And she snored, as she did peacefully sleep.
Now wearing pajamas and a T-shirt to bed
My chest not underneath her head,
Her lingerie now hidden in her dresser drawer
Her dirty socks now litter the floor.
Only surprises that I am now given
Are the ones that I have made and driven,
When I bring her gifts and hopefully happy surprises
While praying to God, they're the correct sizes.
Instead of hearing her purrs and feeling her nylons
I now feel flannel and I hear her yawns,
To my needs and desires she is now immune
Gone is the honeymoon.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem