Drip (Notevember 2023, #7)

On winter mornings you would hide
Bunkered under covers
Cut off from your waiting bride
Separated lovers
Though she would wake up with the light
Try as she might, and oh how she tried
You’d remain, and stay inside
Always reluctant to part with the night
 
She wrote you stories full of hope
Gently started pleading
Written just to help you cope
All in need of reading
She tried to lure you with the bright
You wouldn’t bite, you grunted a ‘nope’
Grumbled, mumbled, sighed and moped
Always reluctant to part with the night
 
And over time your sweetheart changed
Fed up, worn and weary
Tales were altered; glad to strange
Savage, dark and eerie –
 
Now from the bed you did alight
Page after page to devour
Mourning unfurled like a flower
Suddenly freed of your winter blight
Next to your bride, no longer worn
You rose, you rose, and shed your thorns
The light made you heavy, and who would think
That all you needed was darker ink
To bloom, a drip of midnight drink.
She dipped her pen once more to write
Of a rose that’s reluctant to part with the night