Couple at the bus shelter

Holding her shoulder

white knuckle tight

he’s her knight

in High Street clothing

she’s his queen

his bleeding heart

pushing the stroller

playing her part

her eyes dark

exhausted from

the ding of the bell

 

Round one

 

The slam of the door

as toddler screams

they’re in the ring

he’s in her face

his beer breath roar

its Queensbury rules

 

Oh no it’s not

their gloves come off

then its playground

jeers and fisticuffs

and the ding of the bell

 

Round two

 

She’s down on her knees

poor scrubber mopping up

the morning after

their post pub

late night last orders

break-up vows

behind closed doors

 

Yes when he’s sure

she knows who’s boss

she’s hit rock-bottom

she’s lost her spark

yes when she’s just

a little bit smaller

than the day before

 

The whistle blows

final score 1 – nil

then the ding of the bell

 

Round three

 

They’re making up

with baked goods

and pack ups

with dinner dates

wrapped in love

and daddy’s home

every night

let’s celebrate with

happy hearts and

roses round the

cottage door

even though

they both know

there’s more in store

 

There’s tears in

her eyes as they

sit too close

clinging together

on the blue plastic bench

in this bus shelter

waiting for

the ding of the bell

 

Round four

 

 

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