Think you if Laura had been Petrarch’s wife
He would have written sonnets all his life?
Love unfulfilled is what Lord Byron thinks
Drives poets to create, he’s wrong, poor guy,
He might not go a-roving, but the sky
Unfolds itself for me, and Byron stinks.
Now married love is having forty winks
And snuggling down in comfort, half asleep,
No awkwardness, no secret shame to keep,
It’s better when you know each other’s kinks.
Learning the partner on a longer scale,
The memories, the words, the touch of hand,
The gasp of breath, the jokes that never stale,
Parting and joining up the way we planned,
Long lasting love, the trust that does not fail;
I guess poor Byron wouldn’t understand.
30th May 2018