You scoop ice cream to two bowls
To watch Titanic from bed.
You see Jack and Rose flutter their arms
Like they are albatrosses on a hull
About to take off and you try the Titanic pose
At home, you flap like mad,
And still no Romeo and Juliet moment
Only a feeling of two chicken stuck to the ground

You would do anything to recapture
The spark on the honeymoon
As you look at that large iceberg
That is banging on our larger-than-life hull,
Slowly making splinters loose.
Was it familiarity or the fact that 40s
Is never really all that naughty?
When you start to realize that marriage
Is a titanic ocean liner that requires a good supply of coal
To power it home. You can only
Steer away from icebergs and
Hope for some St Elmo’s Fire on
Top of the mast. .

Perhaps New York will greet us
At the end of our long journey,
Perhaps my wife will still be the biggest apple
In my now cataract eyes. I will look at her
Holding my hand nearing my death bed,
A feeling of being capsized taking over,
Looking back at Southampton port
Where it all begin and the thousands of miles
Journeyed together. A feeling of surrealism
Blanketing me. Overwhelmed, my eyes
Become rain clouds pouring out,
A gentle stream of cider tears.

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