Poopie Love

One year shy of a decade,

The madness is yet to fade.

You love beef burgers and salads,

I prefer mutton biryani and soulful love ballads.

I plug my ears with cotton wool,

As you play Primitiv's Taurus, the bull.

Our home is filled with laughter and food on the weekends,

As you whip up strange fruit and veggie smoothie blends.

Come Monday,

You fly out of the 'Bay.

I hurriedly fall back into my chocolate binging ways, 

Sneakily shielded from your annoyed gaze.

"I'm following my diet", I slyly text,

But you catch my first bluff, as easily as the next.

The house has never been quieter, 

With the absence of it's rioter.

Thankfully, Friday dawns bright and early,

And I find myself doing a happy twirly.

(ALTERNATE ENDING : Thankfully, Friday dawns bright and chirpy,

Once again I prepare myself to indulge in your strange hand-made slurpees.)

Writer's Note : This poem is about my management-consultant husband, who travels excessively due to the nature of his work.