For fifty-seven years <br />she had believed, <br />with all her heart, <br />a zillion fibres of <br />her wholesome being, <br />that it was love. <br /> <br />She never doubted once <br />that it was genuine <br />and utterly eternal. <br /> <br />But when she did return <br />('twas meant to be a little token) , <br />that Friday on the early train, <br />and tip-toed up the stairs, <br />avoiding creaks on four and seven, <br /> <br />the word 'Surprise' stuck in her throat, <br />when in spread-eagled missionary style <br />her love of life was at it with a vengeance, <br />and grunts of wild élan and satisfaction. <br /> <br />She went, still dazed out to the kitchen <br />and quickly brewed a scalding cup of java, <br />deciding there and then that it had been, <br />nothing but common pity.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/happy-marriage/
