Beneath storm-tossed and skittering leaden clouds
A heaviness falls upon rain-sodden crowds
Commuters try to avoid incessant rain
Their dry weekend leisure hopes washed down the drain
Raised umbrellas scuttle along leaf-strewn streets
Heads bowed low, scurrying as storm and man meet
One home late husband blames his vacuous wife
For the oppressiveness of his rain-drenched life
With a laboured sigh, he unlatches the gate
A tiresome togetherness can no longer wait
With a somewhat haughty, disrespectful style
He asks ’bout her day, behind an enforced smile
She’s spent her day laboriously cleaning
Polishing and dusting, their home now gleaming
Washing clothes and drying, nothing exciting
Just the hissing of steam when those clothes need ironing.
Blackout blinds afford them quiet seclusion
From any troublesome social intrusion
A chosen circle of friends, only allowed
Inside ivied walls wrapped around like a shroud
Almost unnoticed, days wander into nights
Alone in their grey, they overshadowed light
They couldn’t find an exit to their humdrum.
Life is, as it was, and ever will become
No mutual joy, their marriage feels flat
She blames him for this, while he blames her for that
Neither cared enough for either’s well-being
To differ proved easier than agreeing
Unable to detach themselves from the bland
Quick death intervened; took them both by the hand
Coffined peacefully, each to each other’s side
Any memory forfeit to time and tide
Unenvied in part for their banality
There was no surprise at their finality
Neighbours wryly speculate, rolling their eyes.
There’s more life in them now than before their demise
