A Valentine Comedy

The day started well
I entered the room
You lay on the bed
All a-swish and a-swoon.

A gift on my pillow
Beside your sweet head
And flowers
Of varying sorts
Set in my tin, to bake me a Torte.
You lay there, all smiling
Hand propping up your head
“Will you be my Valentine?”
Is what you said.

Even though, we are already wed.

I put my present to the side
Though invited by the bed
I had to nip out,
Pay a visit to the loo
To deposit a (rather extensive) number two.
So there’s me upon the toilet,
And you in the bed
The hours of love-making
Must take place inside your head.
I strike up a chat
In hope you’ll stay awake
Through wall
And half-opened door,
But only moments later
I hear a gentle snore.

After a while
When my business is done
I can finally lay beside you
Thank God!
It’s already half past one!

We lie there
Softly sleeping
Gently breathing
Silently dreaming:
Then suddenly
Rudely forced awake
“Mum, Mum…”

A voice penetrates.

I cannot see
Who’s waking me
I cannot recall
The voice at all
I have to ask
The name –
Of the child who is to blame,
For shattering our sleep.
Standing there
Complaining of a crap nightmare!

No matter how hard I try,
I cannot be good.
I am too tired out
To talk it through
I make a space
In my own bed
And snuggle close
Into her head,
Her long legs dangle
All around
Her feet are mostly on the ground.
I hold her tight,
Tell her
“It’s alright.”

I lay there
Breathing her same air
And in time, become aware
Of an ache
In my left ear,
Both my arms
You understand
Are tightly clasped by her two hands.

I heave a sigh and stroke her hair
Then dismiss her off
To her own lair
Tell her a game
That she can play
To help her sleep
And she’s away.

My attention turns
To my ear pain
I keep it warm.
And snuggle down again.

Attempt to sleep
Only to realise
There is a pressure
Between my thighs,
The bathroom calls
I must arise.

I fall into bed
Sleep like I’m dead
Only to wake
Before my alarm
A child is ill –
Can I come?

So my dear, I want to say
Despite our night
Of stop and start
I love you
From the bottom of my heart.

And why, I’ll tell you here and now:
I am happy that we share
Our lives together
That we care
Despite the stresses and the strains
That we bear.

Be it
Children sneaking into our bed
Or falling sometimes into the red

Be it family feuds
Or great swings of moods

Be it pain
Or the strain of more illness yet again
We remain
On the same plane.

I love you
Because you’re there
Despite the ink spot on the stair,
Because when you come home
And do not moan
But help me to tidy up the mess,
You show how you care,
You always do your best.

You laugh with me through life.

I am a happy as your wife.

When I’m sad you take my hand
I have the feeling
That you always understand.

And because after such a night
With the horror and the fright
You tell me:

“to let the entertainment go
forget the night behind us
it was not one of our best
lets take our four feet forward
and get on with the rest.”

Yes, I will be you Valentine
Will you be mine?


12 thoughts on “A Valentine Comedy”

  1. Real life so often ‘gets in the way’ doesn’t it… excellent & amusing poem – well done. (BTW, you know on wordpress, to get a single line spacing – if you wanted it but maybe you didn’t! – you press the upper case key (not the one which locks) and the return at the same time)

      1. I can’t seem to change it on this one, but I can see how it works on a new post. Had been annoying me somewhat, so you’ve made my day!!

  2. Yours reminded me of what it was like in the exhausted toddler-mum stages.

    Too tired

    Lack lustre love life, libido lost – somewhere,
    in a haze of exhausted motherhood:
    she’s tired, washed out, ready for bed,
    but only to sleep soundly
    as the pillow touches her head.

    Where’s the glow, the frisson, the spark,
    all that joy and urgency of love-in-the-dark?
    The dancing, the romancing the candlelit meals?
    All on hold, (just for now)
    for ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ and ‘family deals’.

    Then one afternoon when babe takes his nap,
    she’s too tired for house work: she sees a gap!
    She lays a tray, takes it through,
    makes herself comfy,
    feet on a stool,
    dunking her biscuits (breaking the rules).
    Languidly lazy she starts reading her book

    At last the cries wake her
    she comes-to with a start,
    her son is crying, he pulls at her heart.
    She rushes up to see him,
    hot in his cot,
    Oh! – what a to-do!
    (The ‘Mills and Boon’ is left open at page twenty two.)

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