Ma cherie

May it please you to hear
that the system of merit
we all hold dear
enriched the life of
my beautiful nurse
when she entered the room
on a day of gloom
spent saving the life-averse.

Selfless to the last
this smashing lass
enquired of the poems
I wrote earlier.
To which my reply
was a shrug and the cry
that the “poet”
has endured a crop failure.

Oh, how we laughed.

You probably had to be there.

It's not about cherries.

Really. No, I mean it.

Well, it is nice now and again.

No, that's not true. I didn't cry.

I was tired. Too long looking at the screen.

Bed? OK... in a bit.