The Morning After

The Morning After

I prise open an eye and take in the room.
A shapeless form in the bed beside me,
My dirty knickers on the floor and above me that old lampshade that I
keep meaning to replace.
And then a stranger's presence.
A pair of big black boots with glinting spurs,
A black cloak hanging on the door,
A horse standing in one corner,
A space on the pillow where his head should be.
Darn I've got off with the headless horseman again.