Domestic Bliss, Interrupted

We are caught unawares,
hear a key turning, your return.
It casts a shadow on our time,
the afternoon light dimming to dusk.

For an hour or two we were home,
dusting out old memories, sweeping
objections through the front door,
grinding our hurts into a smooth paste.

No need for words; quiet gestures―
an arm softly against my back,
the repetitive embracing movement
of hands around a bowl, we smiled.

In the purring afternoon, a cat
synchronises breathing, feels our joy,
as we melt into each other,
mellowing. Rare moments of peace.

Your frame will not fit this picture.
We look at you askance, wanting
to deny your place in this family,
as you kick off dirty leather boots.