The old fart.
I love my darling husband, this is written from the heart but he is quite disgusting, when he has to fart.
He never will admit it, he will blame the nearest dog. Even though the air is heavy with his smelly stinking fog.
He pops them out in cafés and looks round in mock disgust. If someone lights a matchstick, I fear we may combust.
The worst are silent, deadly. They stink beyond belief. He sits there smiling sweetly with a faint look of relief.
And when we are both sleeping I'm awoken with a start. It sounds just like a shot gun, the unguarded bed time fart.
And I know that I'm in trouble if he's been eating curry, I leave the windows open so I don't have to worry.
And if we are out driving along the open road , he'll blame the local farmers for spilling part their load.
I've learned to spot the signals, The casual sideways look. The little shift whilst sitting, eyes raised above his book.
He never will admit it and I often get the blame, I just hope he's never sitting by an unguarded open flame. Jan Millward©