Dumb and Explicit

With a bleary sigh, you rise from the bed,
Hair unintentionally windswept, you raise your wuthering heights.

The chilled wooden floor pre-empted,
By the inviting womblike slippers,
The staircase awaits you.

The kettle filled,
The mug cleaned and waiting,
With expectant teabag.

To the door, for the milk,
On the doormat, (a woven thatch affair),
Lies a black cuboid of folded interflora cardboard,
Two bottles of red-top,
And the Herts Advertiser.
But we are lactose and news intolerant this morning.

A single red rose,
If only a poet was present.
Your mind travelled like a narrative to Morocco.

There, amidst a bustling market,
Your sweetheart, heady with the aroma of travel,
Pined for your beauty,
As you hold it to your chest,
Aching for his presence,
Vases hadn’t crossed your mind.

* * *

He yawns and stretches, sleep in his eyes,
And scans the ruffled zone,
As she stirs, and tangles the bedclothes,
A single string of beads circles her neck,
A parody of modesty.

Caught up with foreign bodies,
He thinks of you sitting alone under the apple tree,
A guilt rose,
Say it with flowers.