Having A Good Day

Have a good day, she said
concluding her monologue. This
cheerful phrase, with its message
often enough perverted reverberating 
with malice aforethought echoing
in my head, I view the day ahead, 
a desolate landscape of venomous
reproach. The day ahead does not
auger well for the future prospects
of this lifelong relationship. I
am, on the other hand, offered a
gentle smile of care, a warming hug
and a restorative cup of tea from
an entirely other source, to assuage
the harm done by the sharply
twisted tongue previous. The smile
of such value otherwise hardly
suffices now, the hug may alleviate
the dull, empty chasm within, while
the tea with its comforting essence,
merely reminds me that age has
done little to confer emotional
maturity within a relationship
nature itself strenuously denied.