Chronic Fatigue Disorder by Vicky Gifford – 1998
He’s home from work,
She hangs her head,
She’s spent another day in bed.
Will he see she did her best,
Believe she’d tried to end up dressed,
Or will he feel she’s let him down,
Staying in her dressing gown?
In her head, she’d had a plan
Of how to welcome home her man,
All the things to be achieved
Were very easily conceived,
But the plan had not begun
And the plan remained undone.
Now, in her head she’d done it ALL,
Vacuumed lounge and stairs and hall,
Cleaned the kitchen, washed the floor,
Wiped the marks off every door,
Done the washing, ironing too,
Scrubbed the bath and scrubbed the loo.
In her head the dog was walked,
The windows cleaned, shopping bought.
And in her head the table laid,
The kettle on, the dinner made,
So she could greet him with a hug,
With cheerful face and steaming mug,
And ask him all about his day,
And chatter in a joyful way,
So that he’d smile and hold her fast
And say “I’m glad I’m home at last!”
But all these chores, yes every one,
Remained a dream, remained undone.
And so today, as yesterday,
He would have the table to lay,
He would have to make the meal,
To scrub and chop and mash and peel,
He would do the washing up,
Every plate and every cup,
Clean the table, wash the mats,
Walk the dog and feed the cats.
Of course it isn’t WOMAN’S work
But in her heart the guilt would lurk,
Because it surely wasn’t fair,
She couldn’t HELP, she couldn’t SHARE!
He works all day and in the evening
Spends it shopping, cooking, cleaning,
While she’s no energy for it,
Her illness taking every bit….
She feels his presence in the room,
Her eyes are closed, she doesn’t speak,
She feels his hand beneath her chin,
She feels the kiss upon her cheek,
She lifts her head and sees his smile,
He gently wipes her tears away,
Their eyes connect and for a while
He reads her mind, her dreams, her day…
And then he hugs her, holds her fast
And says, “I’m glad I’m home at last”