Gossamer memories of passionate kisses

Of languid loving days are dispersed

Like piebald crisp leaves on an Autumn breeze

As he lies in front of me.

Socks balled up and greyly abandoned on the polished table

Television screaming, his eyes are closed yet flickering beneath the lids.

Distressingly loud, he snores away his lager-fuelled distress

At the afternoon’s result.

I study him as he scratches, somnambulant and cat-like on the sofa

Wondering where my handsome boy went.

“Get us a brew will you, love,” he belches

Awakening from his slumber, lumpen and reeking.

Putting the kettle on, my heart sighs.