Upon a sofa, wrapped in wool,
oblivious, the subject lies,
with mouth agape and sightless eyes,
two legs akimbo, stockinged feet,
grabs forty winks amid a lull,
relaxed and after meal, replete.
A scene caught for posterity
by helpful spouse, who, passing by
and blessed with sharp artistic eye,
in happenstance, an image takes
in moment of temerity
before the subject re-awakes.
He did not think to lie so long;
such lethargy was not the plan
but second helpings of cheese flan
had done for him and doused his zest,
with sofa treated as chaise longue
and household tasks now put to rest.
And finding husband’s supine state
the wife, in open disbelief
that such inaction followed brief
(he’d walk the dog in certitude)
then stumble on her lifelong mate
in horizontal attitude,
decides to publish evidence
upon the web in social share
lay bare their life to public glare
of how in essence, Love’s enthral
like curate’s egg experience,
must weather weakness, warts and all.
In motivation lacking spite,
secure in their fidelity,
his faults laid bare, his tendency
to overeat and sleep whereof
in partnership seems like Marmite …
and proof, perhaps, of steadfast love.
