Corduroy trousers
Always sound like
they’re about to set fire
as old men shuffle
through their retirement
Taking the time
to refine their temperament
So the wife
Will wind ‘er neck in
Stop naggin’
For all the gamblin’

Now he has learnt the humour
In tryin’ to outdo her
And he pulls faces
Through shop windows!
Bets on the side for another pack ’o cigarettes
And when she turns back round
He smiles and points out her assets
His smile feigning innocence

And at the weekends
She goes to their usual haunts
The ladies book club
Where she can moan
About his nuisances
But with a lingering smile
Upon her lips
With an affectionate humour
Because she knows
She is his.

(c) 2016  Feb