A prince and his fat horse

You ate seven chocolates,
and didn’t offer me one.
Not a bite
or even a sniff.
I sat quietly
and watched you swallow them,
even the ones with nuts
which I know you don’t like.

Our sex life is slightly more exciting.
Every Tuesday I’m given a choice
Between two pleasures;
a rub, or a squeeze?
But of course,
never both
and never
with the lights on,
we’re way beyond that.

And then we sleep.
Our snoring loud,
the waste from the factories
of our dreams is plentiful.
Ill dream of him, a handsome prince on a horse,

But he is far, far away.
And you are here.
When I look at you, and your eyes look through mine,
I don’t mind. No I don’t.
Because I know that of course,
My prince, on his horse is on his way.

The rise and fall of their canter,
like the glitter of spring rain.
He’ll be waiting for me in a meadow,
a blanket laid out.
Ill bring samwidges, jam, peanut butter,
or possibly ham.

And we’ll sit there together, not a word to be said.
Coz I knew he was coming,
And he knew I’d be waiting,

And now he’s here, and in my hands he puts a flower.
A rose, maybe. Could be a tulip, a dandelion even,
or all three possibly.
And we sit in this meadow, our mouths stuffed
and smiling with food.

His horse snorts at me,
of course not meaning to be rude,
‘but all that running for her?’
But when that horse, Mary Lou is her name,
eats one of the sandwidges I made, I swear
in those big, fat horsey lips
I see a hint of a smile.