Ode: Husband Compliments

She is a self-driving car. As far as the farthest object, my eyes cannot believe she is Captain of a spaceship that she built from spent foil paper rolls. The aluminium was self-made. Books are like comrades, but actual pillows and blankets. She is a rank bibliophile. Her practice is rubbing off. I feel their spines more than hers. Our bed is tiny. She will quetch at the ''tiny bed'' insinuation. I borrowed "quetch" from her library of words. She imparts. I swear by oaths English is a xenophile. I twitch like a wolfish dog clinging to the sweetest bone while drowning in a stream to hear her hymns of wisdom and her palatial heart of trespassing passionfruit and runaway strawberries, is water-resistant