It was a lacklustre marriage
A bouquet of flowers on a spring day
Followed by shortcomings and oversights.
“I don’t hound you Joyce…What do you mean
I am the perfect gent, always there to stand at your side.”
I wanted a man not a dog.
He had carried me across the threshold
Love danced in his eyes-It was a breath-taking moment of becoming
Then the colour of roses faded
His skin lost the scent of sandalwood
And we were dead in the water, his love had shifted upstream.
She had crystal blue eyes and a wanton smile
He was mesmerised by her moodiness
She pulled him in with her powerful and ardent amour
and summoned his presence on a platter of platitudes
Served with a side order of shipwrecked marriage.
It was a lacklustre marriage
Followed by shortcomings and oversights.
He had carried me across the threshold
before the colour of roses faded
And his love went astray.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
This is for d’Verse.
Hues of Hankinson 