852 Ode To A Falling Finial 8-9-19

Nancy and I sleep
on our old king-sized
four-poster bed,
slats crossed above our heads,
draping linen lace falls around us,
a soft cocoon
waiting morning chrysalis
Each corner’s topped
by a chess Bishop finial
held in place by antique glue.

Once,
somehow,
as old things do,
one came loose its moorings.

So,
now,
whenever the bed shakes,
His Holiness the Bishop
excommunicates
from his lofty throne,
bangs on the head board
and off the oak side brace,
bounces on the floor.

He is a not a too dangerous projectile
jarred by an exhausted collapse
on waiting pillows
or a jerking yank
away from a nightmare spider
just about to sit beside her.

Or…

some other

pleasanter

morning surprise
or afternoon enterprise
of evening exercise…

spontaneous,
delicious,
lascivious.

I thank the Gods
for this treasure:
my wife and happy life,
where the fall of a finial bishop
is harbinger of pleasure,
gratefully enjoyed.

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2020 and it's 72! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
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