What Is It That You Do?

What is it that you do, my dear,
When all the world is fast asleep?
The television in your ear
Makes commentaries dire and deep
That you must scribble down and keep?

Or could it be that you are then
Acquiring scrumptious recipes
From glowing screens about a hen
With henna stuffed and served with peas
And sprinkled with some shredded cheese?

Do tell and now reveal the truth
About your personality.
You spend your night flossing a tooth?
Or does your Aqua comity
Here hold its rites of mystery?

Oh, Woman! Deep, mysterious,
Thy scented, charming tracks and ways,
Your hidden nooks, your furtive fuss!
The changes of your dimmed lamps’ rays
In sleep still haunt my dreaming gaze.