Along the Shore at Pretty Marsh

I know what my heart is like
     Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
     Left there by the tide,
     A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.

Ebb, by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Here I think it's important to point out that my heart is actually not holding a tepid little pool where anyone's love used to be, but I still thought the poem was a pretty good match for the photo. Poor Edna!

Speaking for myself, I might say

I know what my neck is like
     Since I slept all funny;
It is like a solid brick
Holding lots of tension
     Left there by my job,
     Releasing little spasms, 
Down my shoulder to my back.

But the photo I took of a brick didn't look very interesting so here we are. Honestly I am not expecting anything about work tomorrow will help very much either. What helps is whining about it and making little pathetic groaning noises so everyone realizes just how uncomfortable I am. That helps me, anyways. Since my wife doesn't have to work tomorrow I will probably have to add in some sharp intakes of breath and a few grimaces in the morning, followed by a wry shake of the head and assurances that I'm just fine, no worries, hope you have a wonderful day honey I'll just be off to my important, demanding job now.

Then she will probably sit down to write poetry herself. I see her starting with the line:

I know what a pain in the neck is like...