I sit and wallow throughout the day,

Waiting until he arrives home, but the

Country is his real love, I’m but the

One to come home to.

He’s been across many lands,

And taken me to naught,

I feel hard done by,

Pointless,

Merely an object to him.

He stands and gives his speeches

‘We’ll fight them on the beaches,’ he says

Without of thought for me

Patriots aren’t to be frowned on,

But when the one at home,

Who love and care for them are rejected,

I just don’t know what to believe

And when he arrives I look forward for embrace,

Instead I ask ‘Good Day?’

And he replies, in the most solemn tone

‘Yes dear…I suppose’