Rudi in bed, at home, safe, <br />a wounded leg, and I’m glad, <br />I confess, no more leaving <br />home for a few weeks, not <br />being alone by myself <br /> <br />Listening to him whistling, <br />talking on the cell-phone, <br />advising his colleagues, <br />dealing with conflicts, so <br />glad he’s here <br /> <br />Lunch, sitting with him, <br />such fun, he’s cutting <br />vegetables explaining <br />how he wants the meat <br />done for dinner tonight <br /> <br />I refuse, I’m cooking, I’ll <br />do it my way or not at all, <br />we argue, he throws a <br />pillow at me, we open a <br />bottle of champagne <br /> <br />A compromise, we shall <br />buy take-aways, that way <br />both will be content, <br />watching TV, he’s <br />here with me <br /> <br />Life is a song, he is <br />the melody…<br /><br />Louise Tredoux<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-is-a-song/
