I draw the bedroom curtains,
eyes spot his fast-paced walk in the garden
a warm weekend sight for me and my flowers.
My tea bubbles, enthused be shared unlike weekdays
the wrinkled sofas in the living room
an audience to the spousal chatter
he drooped on his mobile, me in my own world
the unspoken silence in sync with our shared support
the house and me both habituated to sprinkled two days of spice
the housewife waits for the next weekend.
