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That Man’s Wife

It must have

Been frustrating;

Always waiting,

For him

To come home.

Sitting alone;

Dinner cold

On the plate.

How many nights

Did you sit,

Did you wait?

Too many,

In this life.

It’s a hard lot,

Being

That man’s wife.

NB

I should say, immediately, that this is not a poem about the lovely (always-hungry-and-never-likely-to-let-his-dinner-go-cold) Mr Brightness.

It followed a conversation I had with a friend a while ago about a previous relationship.

And that’s it really.

Just something I’ve been musing on.

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2 Comments

  1. This is bloody great. I rarely read poetry but I am going to read more now … starting with yours because this sent a few shivers down the old spine. Got to take NC & NG swimming now but I am going to mull this one over as also know a friend who had a similar situation … hmm … might have to show her this.

    • thebrightnessofthesedays thebrightnessofthesedays

      Thank you. I find poetry much easier to read – and write – since you can slot it into the random 5 minutes you get to yourself! I don’t know how you find time for your posts, they’re amazing! xx

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