dash

Look! We Have Landed!

My wife does stretches in her sleep.
For me such chores deserve neglect.
Shes very tidy. I elect
to scatter stuff or make a heap.
She ditches things Id rather keep.
My instinct says: Preserve! Collect!
She hates the music I select.
What madness made us take that leap?
What kamikaze bug possessed
us both? We swore on oath to love
just us (To hell with all the rest!)
and never guessed wed pussyfoot,
solicit doubt, bail out above
our target, land by parachute.

Duncan Gillies MacLaurin

If you have any comments on this poem, Duncan Gillies MacLaurin  would be pleased to hear from you.

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