NaPoWriMo 8

Standard

The Cure is the Disease

My husband’s late for work again
and blames it all on me;
he claims that I am magnetized
and that he can’t break free.

He says I drive him crazy when
I haven’t done a thing.
I tell him that he should get up,
but he keeps tarrying.

So naturally I let him stay,
and when he says he’s found
his happy place here next to me
I ask him to expound.

He says he thinks that he must have
a sickness of some kind,
it doesn’t matter where he is,
I’m always on his mind.

I tell him I’m delighted to
perform the role of nurse,
although if I examine him,
his symptoms could get worse.

We carry on like newlyweds,
until we hear the chime
reminding us that he is late
and we are out of time.

He kisses me then rolls away
and I am left alone
to marvel at the speed with which
these many years have flown.

I don’t know what he sees in me
or why I’m so adored,
but I am grateful for his love
and pray he’s never cured.

Patti McCarty 2009

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