Sunday, 27 January 2019

The presence of a third

I walked in the garden at twilight
The dogs raced around playing a game
My wife furious with anger indoors
As I'd winked at a girl I'll not name

Looking up birds flew home at twilight
Theirs wings out of sync with each other
As the dogs now came to check me out
Me being out there was a bother

My wife was preparing the table
Both the dogs rushed in though they'd been fed
Labradors hunger never ceases
Sniffed around then settled in their beds

How I yearn for those halcyon days
When at dusk she drew the curtains to
That palace of ours which was our home
Many things bring back that deja vu

I went up to her and hugged her tight
She looked up and lay her head on me
Such little things drive a woman mad
Words husky from crying I could see

Image found at


  1. Robin, it's the little things that are unspoken, which gives your poem, its emotional punch. Darn you, now I'm starting to tear up.

  2. What strikes me most is her drawing the curtains closed at night, to enclose you both in a world of two. How wondrful your memories are. Life was golden, then.

    1. Memories of life, yes...not necessarily my own!

  3. It's always the little things. So we'll written

  4. Oh yes, the little things can easily turn into big things

  5. "That palace of ours which was our home"
    Yup, as it should be.

    Thanks for dropping by my sumie Sunday Robin


  6. Capturing the two moods and the regret! Nice. How masterfully done through fine details!

  7. A well written story within a poem!!

  8. The details are wonderful in this. That and the pleasance of simple comforts come together so beautifully pinned against the rhyme that you've used here. Lovely!

  9. If a woman gets jealous it means she loves you very much. I know you cherish that.

  10. The simple things—closing the curtains, a hug before dinner, noticing what other is doing—build the most powerful memories...

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