Not Just For The Festive Season Poem by cahen thrips

as you would wish
I keep our house clean
and tidy of a fashion;
sofas are where they should be,
my clothes hung up
and not too many books pile
on the kitchen table;
empty bottles are out
for recycling, though far more
than would meet your approval.

I've just wiped the hob,
swept the floor and washed
the festive tea-towels which
I'd stained with a madras meal
I'd eaten alone on Christmas day -
all the while half-conscious
you could walk up the way
with impossible clicks of your heels.

Your unworn robe hangs on its hook;
our toothbrushes still share a rack
and when I open a wardrobe door
for an instant your scent
makes me smile as if you're here
though then I resent
that you'll never be coming back.

Yes - I keep the house clean,
not for me but just in case
you find your way home
from that distant land
the living will never understand.

January 2023