What is this thing, this thing called love,
with its music, fluffy clouds and doves?
Why do we very often find
that although love is truly blind
the aftermath of love-ish blindness
is years of marital unkindness.
There’s something about being a spouse
that turns a lover into a louse.
And no matter how hard you work at being nice
…..you somehow find that you’re BOTH just lice.
