Terry Reeves Poet Prose

Once In a While

It would be nice if you listened to me,
instead of ignoring my mild requests,
astonishing if you agreed with me for a change,
although no decent resistance would be strange.

Remember the old days when we acquiesced,
now not unusual for things to be second-guessed;
my experience as a game- player was my range,
but to lose nearly every time would be strange.

We had houses, wealth, cars and holidays,
but a battle to prevent the parting of the ways,
even when you drove up the drive to our fancy grange,
an acknowledgement of our success would be strange.

Tolerance is the key - 'He doesn't say much, does he?'
Ironically, keep driving, survival is thanks to me.

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