I’m so exceedingly over incorrect

I’m  so  exceedingly  over  incorrect

politically;what do you expect?

My kitchen’s not fitted

I don’t want it gutted

I am not going to be one of the Elect

 

I am not au fait with decor

I have never re- decorated before.

We had a new flat

And a  Tottenham tom cat

What woman could ask   her husband for  more?

 

It’s Christmas and I am alone

But my husband is visiting this room

I heard his slight cough

And that was enough

I asked him was he worried  by my moans?

 

I am feeling a little unwell

He looked down from heaven and could tell.

So he’s come for a permission

To abide by the decision

God made when my man was so ill.

 

I told him I have  got some new friends

Who read my poems  right to the end.

I hope that I amuse

And also bemuse.

As it stops me from going round the bend.

 

I said he can stay here and watch

As I sew up my skirt with a patch.

The moths were  so vicious

They made holes in my knickers.

Yet somehow they still seem to match.

 

I know he is there by the door;

Because he has been here before.

I don’t turn my head

Because he is dead.

Yet he  often-times crosses the floor.

 

I miss him,I miss him, I do.

How to live on, I don’t have a clue.

I am here writing  stories

And studying mores.

So I wish he could polish my shoe.