MY HONEYMOON WITH MYSELF
Under the stars of Naples
Alone at last!
In the hotel I booked the queen-sized matrimonial suite.
Friends and family gave me a great send-off.
My aged mother, tears in her eyes, waving goodbye:
‘I’m glad to see you finally settled.
You weren’t exactly the easiest person to live with.’
‘Great, mother,’ I say, ‘finally I’ve found someone you really approve.’
Yet after all the excitement I don’t know what to think.
Is it love that I feel?
or did I just talk myself into it?
Won’t I get bored?
And, indeed, next morning at breakfast in the hotel dining room
the atmosphere is a little subdued,
Everybody smiles at they look at me.
What must they be thinking?
Suddenly I’m a stranger, even to myself.
I look at myself, my downcast eyes.
Will conversation always be this hard?
And I wonder:
did I make the right choice?
Will I make myself happy?
Should I have spent more time surveying the field?
But as the mist lifts from the sea,
like a curtain opening on distant islands,
perhaps there is hope.
A stroll along the cliffs might cheer my spirits.
Still the nagging doubt:
I wasn’t quite sure if I was a virgin.