Douglas Spencer (dougs) wrote,
Douglas Spencer
dougs

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For Susan in Washington, for Greg in London

On wings of sleep a writer gently drifts,
And as she sleeps, she warmly dreams of me.
She worries her imagination's gifts
Will spook me with their impropriety.

On wings of strife an engineer is keen
To place his wife's affections first in life.
He worries how his choices will be seen,
And frets in case I hate him for his wife.

I told her it was fine, it made me bright,
The way I turned her on inside her head.
I told him it was fine, he'd chosen right,
He needn't fear, we'd share a pint instead.

Will someone tell these folk I'm not a God:
The fact they think I am is somewhat odd.
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