I thought the tin of paint looked old.
Karen's one request had been
To lose the blue that felt too cold
And paint the room a shade of green.

Would out-of-date green paint soon fade?
I pondered this and stroked my chin.
Are expiration dates displayed?
Perhaps it's underneath the tin.

I realised the lid of it
Was loose when it was upside-down.
I'm not the village idiot.
I'm just the town's distinguished clown.

The carpet's stylish pool of paint
Would leave a stain I couldn't hide.
Expensive things that bear a taint
Should really bring a sense of pride.

Blood-stained chairs might well enhance
The ambience of where I dine,
Where floods left silt supporting plants
That never wilt. I'm glad they're mine.

But Karen would be furious.
I'd mention trends for styling shacks,
But then she'd just be curious
About potential mental cracks.

Uncle Dermot offers hope
When screws are loose and light has died.
When I'm supplied with too much rope
He'll stop a noose from being tied.

He knows a squared hypotenuse
Can save the lives of tree-bound cats.
He's satisfied with rotten views
As long as he can muse on maths.

In seeking scientific truths
He treats his soul to great delights,
Tracing knowledge to its roots
Where hidden depths affect the heights.

He's certain science will reveal
The underlying truths of life.
He'll raise the veil to view the real
And blaze a trail where fog is rife.

The facts of life above the ground
Are blooming in eternal spring.
Inspiring scenes and soaring sound
Invite his nightless soul to sing.

He built a lab inside his shed.
His bed is there beneath his notes.
Schemes and thoughts invade his head
In dreams of steam on stately boats.

He gets assistance from Eileen,
A widow with a probing mind.
She'll help draw back life's drapes to glean
The gleaming truths he hopes to find.

The bright lights of their mental skills
Can make the dark recesses glow.
They'll camp at night on lonely hills
To see a stunning stellar show.

He'll undertake experiments
To understand the laws of chance,
And be the lord of dance in tents
As star-filled summer nights advance.

I hoped that Dermot could provide
A way to clean the stain I'd made,
Some good advice before it dried
Or some device to make it fade.

He'd no such thing to move the stain.
Instead he told me what to say,
The calming words to form a chain
And charm the looming storm away.

Amazingly, this method worked.
Karen's anger soon declined.
I found out where her laughter lurked.
It's striking sound confirmed my find.

When unconfined by anger's walls
Her laugh rang out in songs of glee,
As unrestrained as waterfalls
On mountainsides I long to see.

We got on like a house on fire.
My uncle's lines were dynamite.
I complimented her attire
And her two eyes were shining bright.

Her gaze revealed the root of my
Unfurnished soul with tarnished ground.
My house that fire would beautify
Was graced by her sweet laughter's sound.

She brought some potted plants as well.
She often called to say hello.
We'd go for walks to flee the smell.
Sparks of love began to glow.

But then one day her husband called.
I saw him with his gun outside.
He rang the bell and there he stalled.
I crept upstairs where I could hide.

The house on fire from our bright sparks
Had surely caused her spouse's ire.
Heartfelt talks and walks in parks
Ensured my future days seemed dire.

I turned to Dermot once again.
I thought I'd use his charming lines,
The words to make her husband grin,
And thus defuse alarming mines.

Instead he had a new machine,
A weapon made to frighten mice.
Karen's husband fled the scene
When I displayed this fine device.

It left a hole in my front door
And scorched the carpet in the hall,
A clear improvement on before,
A floor to match the blackened wall.

Karen rarely visits me.
Her husband never ventures near
The sombre place that proved to be
The source of his oppressive fear.