Poems by Christine Magee

He was very late home that evening
but the food would come to no harm,
it was just a salad, two steaks to grill.
Annoyance crept into her calm.

He’d driven to town to pick up some wine
to go with their meal, he said;
and a box of chocolates, her favourite ones.
But he drove past the turning instead.

She asked him why he had changed his mind.
Smiling, he said he had missed her;
then he kissed her.

So they drank from that bottle
that he nearly bought.
And the chocolates?
They devoured them later.