Crazy Love Story

She had already been there one day,
Perfect little Mrs. Housewife, who lost her way.
Sanity slipped, a wrist met a knife—
No mere simple piece, this trophy wife.

I recall her standing, eyes on the screen,
When he, Mr. Corporate America, walked in—pristine.
Black hair without a trace of gray,
A bottle of pills nearly stole him away.

And now here they both stood, in Green Oaks’ hall,
Where shadows loomed and spirits would fall.
The moment their eyes met, chemistry sparked,
A silent story instantly marked.

He’d chase her when the staff looked away,
Exchange silly faces to brighten the day.
Rooms opposite, they’d mimic and play,
A private rebellion, a flirtatious ballet.

In group therapy, side by side they’d sit,
Whispers unspoken, each moment lit.
Visitation came; her husband’s rage
Erupted until the staff had to engage.

He watched it all while talking low,
His mother’s voice a distant echo.
And then I heard it, whispered and sweet—
She’d leave her husband, in love’s fierce heat.

To run away with him, wild and free,
If that’s not crazy love, what else could it be?

NP