The Question by Calum Maclean. A Love Poem (of sorts).

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The Question by Calum Maclean. A Love Poem (of sorts).

The Question

Darling, I can see that you’ve been looking at me strangely,
I sense the question coming, ‘Do you ever want to change me?’

A threatening predicament, and one we’d best avoid;
your mobile rings, you take the call, inside I’m overjoyed.

Later, on the sofa, while I’m watching CSI,
you turn to me and I can see that question in your eyes
I sense there’s no escaping from this dreaded situation,
I grit my teeth then power through for damage limitation;

‘Before you ask the question, let me say one simple thing,
you brighten each and every day, you make me want to sing.
That being said, I think it’s fair to add, without a doubt,
there’s certain things about you I could maybe live without.

For instance, I would probably enjoy a few more nights
if you’d join me in the bedroom without messing with the lights,
I know you think it’s quirky but I’m telling you it’s hell,
you’re on the cusp of madness, and it’s not too soon to tell.

Also, now I think of it, there’s one more tiny thing.
Is there a way that, maybe, you could give up trying to sing?
Not to be harsh, but every time I hear you reach for notes
a sound like screaming foxes keeps escaping from your throat,

and then there’s always this wee point, now you’ve got me thinking,
I hate it when you lose your phone each time we go out drinking,
plus I’m not sure you realise how threatening it feels
when you’re towering above me in those crazy six inch heels,

I know you feel so sexy when you’re walking down the street,
but it’s me who has to hold them while you whinge about your feet,
which brings me rather neatly to that jerky way you jog,
the way you snore through movies like an emphysemic frog,

your awful taste in hat wear, those patches on your knees,
your cooking’s pretty shoddy, I can’t stand the way you sneeze,
you take so long to tell me news I swear you have a stammer,
I had a read through of your blog and shuddered at the grammar,

but these are just some quibbles that occur to me today.
You’re looking slightly mad my love, what were you going to say?’

Calum Maclean – February, 2016.