Abigail

Abigail

Every so often, Abigail thinks that she should feel at least a little bit guilty.

(It's hard to be repentant when you're married to the king

and the husband who passed away to make it possible

was horrible.)

Still, it niggles

just a little.

She remembers,

(day time, a lingering glow of satisfaction,

night time 3 am, a blush of guilt,)

how, maddened by horrible husband's outrageous,

(and dangerous)

discourteous behaviour,

she nicked the week's supplies from his bleating pantry

and whisked them to David in the desert.

It was a thrill, (though scary.)

Still, when that oaf of a husband was blotto (again) on her return,

it eased any potential remorse.

He died of a hard heart a week later.

No, Abigail, it wasn't your fault.

Enjoy.