The Cactus Tree Motel by Rusty Gladdish


At the Cactus Tree Motel
With its cool marble mosaic floors
And ever opening and closing doors,
And voices echoing along the halls
And bouncing off the blue-tiled walls
And soaring up the galleries.

Above the prickly cactus courtyard
A velvet canopy is spread.
Now there’s only Jack Orion
Gleaming mutely overhead.

But down on earth the patron shuffles,
Wearily dragging his feet;
Lagging behind him, his over-weaning,
Obsessively cleaning wife,
Her cloth crown awry,
Wielding her restless ever-moving mop,
Fearing to stop even for a moment
(In case she has to think
Or pour herself an alcoholic drink.)


Inspired by our stay in a youth hostel on the Tunisian coast. 
The rightof Rusty Gladdish to identified  as the author of this work has been aserted  by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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