Still feel her like a weight
Brings my arms down to silence
As I try to work upon her brow
We did fight, not often
But I tread lightly on her down
For fear of waking her violence
She could be fierce
Her scientific mind asking how
We men could live in a world of women
And I toil in my shed
Waiting for her to bring me tea
Her ghost wafting in, cup in hand,
Arguments forestalled
Saved till a later date
For she is me and I am she
Each day rendering me asunder
She at peace six foot under
© shaun patrick green
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