He came home reeking of gin and vermouth
with a slight taint of Spanish olive and pearl onion as well.
His anger apparent by the blush of crimson upon his face and neck.
Maybe, just maybe, if she lay perfectly still, feigning sleep,
he would ignore her this time.
Unfortunately, that ploy almost never worked.
Although similar to yesterday's post, the 1st line of this poem came to me in a dream a few days ago. I apologize for the repetition of theme. I think I will take a break over the weekend.
I am participating in Flash Friday 55. This weekly meme is brought to you by G-Man, over at Mr. Know it All. The object is to write a story or prose in exactly 55 words. Come join us and link your 55 in Mr. Know it All's comment section. See you there!