a letter to my husband

It was a cold morning in Whitby,
waiting for a fishing boat to dock
I spent all day looking at the clock
with a baby, in the shops and
playing on the sands,
I eagerly waited for six o'clock
to see you come into the harbour..
I looked at each boat as they arrived
and saw my love..
but he ignored me..I thought 
maybe he didn't see
but he did..he saw me waiting with his child
and he chose not to see..
the tidal wave engulfed 
I lay harpooned on the wharf...
you never rang me, you were
away for weeks, molly coddling you said
when I worried, that you were safe..
 then you found that endearing,
in someone else..not me..this person
I became a universal mother not a wife,
nor lover..I was part of the furniture
there were many times, that you chose others
above the ones that loved you..
love is stitches through your life
it holds the material of things together,
you cannot fit it in a slot
when it's real it flows forever
alongside all things, not instead of
you laughed at my father's funeral
you missed his final party with
your traveller friends, which you
put before your own children.
you went on outings with them
whilst we were trapped at home
waiting on lies you lived by..
love after love you found
whilst I did my duties housebound
waiting on hope and niceties that
may drop of the back of a lorry..
then..your true love appeared
and off you went on another crusade
I'm sorry I got in your way..
silly me... I should have known
ten years later she died on my birthday,
and you now have that tattoed
on your arm, my birthday.
so..my love, you will never ever
forget my birthday again,  for as long as you live
isn't life strange..
the most precious thing in life..is love and time to share it.