She Blows the Candle Early Cold

She Blows the Candle Early Cold


That Autumn, I tell you! You see
She’s so hard on herself it’s killing me

Would-be lazy morning-afters, now I startle wakeful
At the awful, bitter laughter, so self-hateful
That she hurls at the mirror as she stands
Probing grays and wrinkles with hard hands
“Where’s your green going?” she’ll say
“Less and less and less each day!”

Would-be romantic dinners she sits
Poking scornfully at her tits
“Not so perky are we now?”
And my love won’t eat, calls herself a cow
Won’t hear otherwise; heedless of all the times she’s told
She’s lovely, she blows the candle early cold

And now the lights have always to be off
Her lips are hard where once so soft
Then she’ll toss, then rise and pace
No peace no more in our poor place
“Please my love, come back to bed…”
“You’ll love another when I’m dead.”

Maybe I will! Maybe I’ll start tomorrow
And leave her in her spiteful sorrow
Go find me a fey, flowershop girl
Who’ll giggle and pull on a shy curl

When I pat her plump bum and wink

Still got in in me! (leastwise I think)

I’d leave right now, I would, I’d go
If I only didn’t love Autumn so