Penelope to Odysseus...

Welcome home, beloved spouse of years.

Put down your baggage; I'll attend your scars.

Some trace of all your questing still appears;

The grey clay of the underworld in smears,

And halo of infernal smoke you wear.

When you have rested, we shall play a tune

So Tristan's horn will not disturb your mind,

And sports we'll play in bed or under moon

To limber muscles that were clenched in strife.

We'll talk, and dream up stories for our life

With happy endings, or at least fine wines;

And when your energies again unfold

To seek adventures and a wider view

I'll pack a bag with flutes and cheese and gold,

For I intend to go along with you.

from Peter, to Jean

14 February 1994

© Peter Bird