Old Tessa, after Reginald
Had stumbled off to meet his God,
Was moderately shocked to find
She missed the sod.
Forty years of abrasive marriage,
Of putting up with his crap,
Had left her less than distraught at the crem -
But there was a gap.
So that is why, each bedtime,
She chatters at his ghost,
And if he tries to answer back,
Reminds him: ‘Reg – you’re toast.’
But she says it without bile or spite
And sometimes, with a thoughtful smirk
Adds: ‘Funny sometimes what it takes
To make a marriage work.’
If you have any thoughts about this poem, George Simmers
would be pleased to hear them.