Neither beautiful nor practical…

You never see it coming, the one that’s meant for you

But old wives tales and sayings? ‘Bout nothing much ado!

It’s all part of life’s rich pattern, worse things happen at sea

But I was caught quite unawares with my epiphany


For no apparent reason, of nothing apropos

A little thought was triggered from the archives down below

We were sitting at the table one freezing winter morn

I minding my own business whilst still stifling a yawn


She looked across the Cheerios and sort of eaten toast

And in between the questions about bills and Sunday roast

She said, “Have you seen this article they’ve written recently?

It’s the modern noughties woman’s guide to minimal feng shui.”


I tried to feign indifference, of hearty breakfast make the most

And dream of vestal virgins long since headed for the coast

But she wasn’t having any and persisted with her theme

Allowing no flirtation with Gary Brooker’s shaded dream


“It says these days our houses are overburdened now with stuff

Ephemera, knick-knacks, mementos and carpets full of fluff

To move on to the future, why, there cannot be a doubt

If it’s neither beautiful nor practical we should simply throw it out.”


In amongst the hectoring, something struck a chord

Mere raising of an eyebrow but inside the lion roared

Are there any limits? To exactly what extent?

Is it just confined, my dear, to inanimate content?


And then, by God, it started; the flicker became a flame

Before long an inferno, a passion none could tame

What on earth am I doing, going along with this?

Endless witty put downs and subtle taking of piss.


The human soul is powerful, a fortress seldom breached

And man is like an island, we’ve often heard it preached

But man is also helpless and open to abuse    

His head rests on your pillow rather better than in your noose


His strength comes from togetherness, not confidence undermined

Life’s not a competition, wife! To complement, we’re designed

But it would have fallen on deaf ears, this flogging of dead horse

And just for now I’ll be the one who’ll exhibit true remorse


Repent at leisure, a dish served cold and other hackneyed verse

Empty advice from so-called friends will often make it worse

There’s nothing new to be acquired from satellite above

The answer, old friend, was blowing in the wind; it’s just respect and love


How apposite were Cheerios, I should have looked them up

In dictionary or book of words, or leaves in old tea cup

When lovin’s gone bad, there’s no goin’ back to what you had before

We had good times, it’s true, my dear, before we went to war


Before we lose the will to live, I’ll knock this on the head

But don’t be bitter, sad, or regret I’m no more in her bed

To stay together at all costs should be declared a crime

Just thank God I had the sense to leave you in your prime.


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