Local Poetry

To My Wife (Our Roles Reversed?)  By Keith I. Platt - December, 1996

A curious thought was on my mind,
should we some morning wake and find
that in the night we changed would be;
that I'd be you, and you'd be me.

You'd smoke your cigs from morn 'til night.
The ashes on your clothes a sight.
You know how anxious I would be,
if I were you, and you were me.

You to the football, pubs, would go.
Whilst I'd attend a flower show.
How different our tastes would be,
if I were you, and you were me.

I'd tell you when to change your clothes,
and brush your hair, and blow your nose.
A funny place this world would be,
if I were you, and you were me.

If I were you, and you were I,
would you do things to make me cry?
Or would you kind and loving be,
if I were you, and you were me?

We'd view the world from different slants,
if I wore frocks and you wore pants.
But really, love, would it not better be,
that you be you, and I be me?