Look! We Have Landed!
My wife does stretches in her sleep.
For me such chores deserve neglect.
She’s very tidy. I elect
to scatter stuff or make a heap.
She ditches things I’d 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 we’d 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.