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