The Neighbour Poem by Sheena Blackhall

His Saxon wife had skin like alabaster
He was a scientist- a brilliant mind
Liked Bach. Despised pop dirge and ghetto blaster

He had a mistress, this was no disaster.
She lived in Rome (he was the secret kind
In Scotland, a good husband, honest master)

Couples have cracks, stay wed by using plaster
To fool the world around, in street or wynd
A lie once told next time is spoken faster.

It suited her to act as a pilaster
She had her children, so she acted blind
And for his soul, she'd say a pater noster

My father talked of gardens with this mister,
A cultural bridge, all difference left behind
The thistle and the rose, bluebell and aster

At Hogmanay, he gave him drink, a gesture
Of goodwill, to this English gent, refined
By learning, widely travelled, knowledge vaster
Than ours, whose marriage was a small disaster.