My boyfriend had bad allergies that barred
him from enjoying outdoor times, he said.
My husband’s hem’rhoids made the biking hard
and painful, so he stayed at home instead.
My children’s dad was too depressed of course,
to take them traveling or teach them craft.
My Ex thought if there hadn’t been divorce,
he wouldn’t be so bitter. He once laughed,
but soon he channeled grump curmudgeonly,
and Grandpa just won’t fly or drive that far.
His ears can’t take the cabin pressure, see,
and heel spurs don’t feel painless in a car.
For four and forty years, the man excused
himself from work and love, his spark unused.

This entry was posted in Family, Personality, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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