There she waits
on the doorstep of doom
with curlers to scare
as she points with her broom.
There he totters
up the street
with beer in his brain
and two left feet.
"Where have you been"
"cant you guess that!"
He replies with a brave note
Bowing removing his hat.
Not wise, the broom raised
He moved in the nick of time
awkwardly - backwards
in the gutter amongst the grime.
she smiled, her curlers winced
The broomstick bent
The drunk wondering
from where the stars were sent.
She threw him a blanket
the gutter for a bed.
"Make your bed, lie in it"
She madly said.
the door slammed
He was with his dreams
She cried buckets
or so it seems.
Her and him
it will always be.
Him outside and her indoors
that is plain to see.