The Night Before the Morning After...

He asks, should we, perhaps,

have an early night? 

 

A half-smile from me is enough, since

more years than I care to remember,

making  mad, marital love.  Words –

superfluous, after so long.

 

I smile, again, picking up the duvet

from the floor...spears of early morning light

piercing the blinds; the entire room looking

like the aftermath of World War III. 

 

Plump up the mattress – sagging

in the middle – seen better days, but days

don’t get much better than this,

not in reality.

 

Rescue Jelly Cat from beneath the bed – a gift

from me to him on our umpteenth anniversary;

even that – aeons ago now. And then

 

there was Blackberry Bear he’d had since a kid,

pinned between the window and the headboard;

toppled from its perch on the sill, what with

last evening’s contortions.

 

Not as devil-may-care as once we were. 

No more throwing caution to the wind;

 

what with his Parkinson’s, and my

dodgy knees, and the cramp he gets in his,

if he kneels too long, but, as they say,

best draw a veil over that.

 

They also say familiarity breeds contempt,

and, it does. I take him for granted, and he – me...

 

Till he calls for help, from the bathroom,

and I ask myself, if I’d had a crystal ball,

all those years ago, would I be where I was now;

grappling with his socks...bent double

on the lino – dodgy knees, or not?

 

and him asking, Good...last night; wasn’t it?

 

But to both, there is no answer;

his smile, saying it all.