#7 The Seven-Year Itch

A happily married man was Mitch
Until the onset of the seven-year itch
He directed his ardour
At the lady next door
And worked on his opening pitch

With girded loins, to his paramour he headed
Expecting to be welcomed and bedded
Only to find
The lady entwined
With the woman to whom he was wedded

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: A Recollect from Bertolt Brecht

LindaGHill hosts Stream of Consciousness Saturday.
The prompt this week is COLLECT
Use the word any way you’d like and have fun!
The post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing
(typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.
Click HERE for the rest of the rules, and to play along.

When Bertolt Brecht did elect to direct
Mrs Brecht did not object to this neglect
She stood erect as off he trekked
Wondering how much he might suspect

Mr Hecht, all circumspect, came to collect
Mrs Brecht, perfect in a gown bedecked
But they did not expect to re-connect
With Bertolt Brecht at the intersect

His marriage wrecked, he did reflect
Was he the architect or just hen-pecked
But he was correct to feel disaffect
For this disrespect was truly schlecht


She stares at the evidence, which confirms her suspicions. She will confront him when he comes home from working late again.

He is early. ‘I’ve finished the project. I’ll be home on time from now.’

They eat supper, she washes the dishes, and he reads a story to Amy and Jake.

‘You’re quiet tonight,’ he says, as they climb into bed.

‘I’m tired.’

‘Have a lie-in tomorrow; I’ll cook breakfast, then we can take the kids to the park, and go out for lunch.’ He kisses her and rolls over.

She will wait for the next time.