21st February 2014

Sonnet 97

That weekend we had in Madrid, it's been

 Overtaken by the end of this year,

Another tick off the  bucket list: seen

Prado; churros; bloodback bulls;  next one's where?

Now I remember - I said no next time,

Our sum of married bliss did not increase,

More newbuild on a brownfield gone sub prime

Bubbleburst, like dictatorships decease.

You had the Guardia out after me:

Tearful tourista are low hanging fruit,

I'd got speedy boarding to avoid thee -

That last fight over tapas left me mute.

When our plane lands, "...tis with so dull a cheere",

Weekends away make divorce look too neere.