Friday, April 17, 2009
The Marriage of Body and Mind
Shall I compare thee to a willing mate?
Our weddedness not heralded by choice,
our marriage arranged by God or by ill fate,
our intercourse a second to divorce.
I dote on you with potions and health food.
You plead, for years, I lighten up and dance.
You gift me with a migraine, I you a gloomy mood,
our merry coupling never stood a chance.
It's true I view the body as a cage,
you see the self as poison down your throat.
Perhaps we will grow mellower with age,
although that seems unlikely and remote.
For now at least I'll lay me down , count sheep,
with you, of course, beside me feigning sleep.
