Derrière

My ode to the first recorded joke in history: Something which has never occurred since time immemorial; a young woman did not fart in her husband’s lap.

A lazy wind, a moonless night,
the stars cast way up there.
My love, she sat beside me;
we were both without a care.

Sensitive to every touch,
hand on her shoulder bare;
intoxicated with her eyes,
her hair, and skin so fair.

Sweet smell of honeysuckle
gently perfuming the air…
At once, another trace of something,
though the source was not so clear.

I tried to simply shrug it off,
this presence in each nare,
Yet I grew weak against this sense:
no longer could I bear.

“My dear,” I started timidly,
“Might you be aware…”
The glance she now cast on me
warned me: wise, now, to beware.

“There is a certain ambience
(of its effects I have no care),
but suspicions must be laid to rest:
is’t from your derrière?”

Her eyes ablaze she thrust me –
“You accuse me? Don’t you dare!
It must be skunks, or rotting trunks,
neither from my derrière!”

I cringed, had not expected rage
to incite in me such fear -
To think she’d be so touchy
of her precious derrière!

She continued rather frostily,
“To flatus: I have ne’er!
I cannot stress enough the
pur’ty of my derrière!”

My love quickly left me in a huff
(my heart strings then did tear).
I should have refrained from blaming
that so shapely derrière!

I meant to then go face her, entreating
with a passion I found rare,
to please return and be with me –
no more mention "derrière"!

As I approached, though, from behind,
my resolve from me she scared,
with the large brown smudge
(that was now formed)
on my ex-love’s derrière.

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EDIT: Several edits while I tried to figure out the formatting. Guess I'm getting old.