DASH IT!

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DASH IT!



Dash it, Baby!
Is this really the best we can manage?
Here's the key, there's my desk,
You have my heart,
You can come and go, whenever you please.
If you can find a spare penny,
Keep it, please, and use it to wish us well.
I take my hat off to you.
Don't be hard on me old girl;
We have had a run of bad luck.
Things are bound to get better.

Well, are you happy?
I did say? I promised you, did I not, that
I would make you queen of my poetry.
Haven't I? Well, who of us is happy?
You take pleasure in your business.
You have your list of details,
All the very many, important things to do,
And now with your father gone,
You have the legal consequence, and its paper work.
I realize that you are accustomed to international travel,
Heavy baggage means little to you.
Then there is the situation with your mother,
I shall leave that to another poem.

And as for me, for me,
I sit up half the night writing poetry;
You must know I am lonely.
The company I seek
Requires more than the filling of physical space.

Oh, I shall survive, no need to worry.
But I am probably the gloomier of the two of us,
Yet I wonder how you push through the day,
How you manage a smile or roam open and free.

Dash it, Baby!
I am still caught up in the bondage of what once was us,
Tied to the time we worked to solve,
The intricacies that destiny seemed to hand to us.

It is hard to imagine you remain remote,
That now, and what seems forever,
You have become unavailable to me.