Beneath storm-tossed and skittering leaden clouds

A heaviness falls upon rain-sodden crowds

Commuters try to avoid incessant rain

Their dry weekend leisure hopes washed down the drain

Raised umbrellas scuttle along leaf-strewn streets

Heads bowed low, scurrying as storm and man meet

 

One home late husband blames his vacuous wife

For the oppressiveness of his rain-drenched life

With a laboured sigh, he unlatches the gate

A tiresome togetherness can no longer wait

With a somewhat haughty, disrespectful style

He asks 'bout her day, behind an enforced smile

She's spent her day laboriously cleaning

Polishing and dusting, their home now gleaming

Washing clothes and drying, nothing exciting

Just the hissing of steam when those clothes need ironing.

 

Blackout blinds afford them quiet seclusion

From any troublesome social intrusion

A chosen circle of friends, only allowed

Inside ivied walls wrapped around like a shroud

Almost unnoticed, days wander into nights

Alone in their grey, they overshadowed light

They couldn't find an exit to their humdrum.

Life is, as it was, and ever will become

No mutual joy, their marriage feels flat

She blames him for this, while he blames her for that

Neither cared enough for either's well-being

To differ proved easier than agreeing

 

Unable to detach themselves from the bland

Quick death intervened; took them both by the hand

Coffined peacefully, each to each other's side

Any memory forfeit to time and tide

Unenvied in part for their banality

There was no surprise at their finality

Neighbours wryly speculate, rolling their eyes. 

There's more life in them now than before their demise