The Marriage Chest

She acquired a chest of golden hue with drawers of graded size
where things would be stored for a longed for life with the perfect man 
whose eyes would foretell of a future with this blissfully perfect wife

A bottom drawer for youthful desire, for hopes and dares and wishes
with linen sheets and blankets and china dishes for the banquets
that would grace their table with honey and blissful meadowsweet

The golden chest was soon complete and filled with fretful yearning
so she went in search of the perfect man with a burning desire
to create a life that would soar to the heights of heavenly choir

She found her quarry in the Saracen's Spurs sipping Theakston's bitter
in the corner, by the dartboard, looking worried, so she challenged him
to a best of three, won them all, then hurried him back to hers

The wedding took place at St Cuthbert's church with a do upstairs 
at the Spurs, where words were had and food was flung 
and the landlord slung them out for being noisy, disruptive and crude

This didn't bode well as the marriage soon faltered and the chest
soon emptied of yearning, so the sheets returned to the bottom drawer
as her attitude altered to a philosophy far more discerning

Her marriage chest of golden hue now void of maidenly fervour
seems, to the observer, now want of purpose, of sheets and china
and the finer things in life that would see her through

Instead, the golden chest is adorned with silver trophy and burnished
plaque, prizes which bring back hoards of memories of elation
on dartboards conquered across the nation

The chest now groans with the spoils of success, the ladies champ
the empress of the oche, the victor ludorum, the golden garter
the cocky exponent of the lethal nine darter

The chest is content with its victorious lot, displaying success
and kudos got through a journey hard fought and choices made
in the Saracen's Spurs between hapless victim or jubilant sport