Tuesday, November 19, 2019



Be my Sunday morning
Awaken to the joy
Of hot chocolate and croissants
In a crumpled bed

Be my Sunday morning
A quiet easy stroll
Along the streets of adulthood
Under green plane trees

Be my Sunday morning
With the afternoon ahead
Nothing to do but read a book
Our cat upon my knee

Be my Sunday evening
As tiredness eats away
And thoughts of work on Monday
Prey on a worried mind

Be my week of work
My busy fragile life
The demands of city living
Of never catching up

Be my quiet midnight
When only you and I
Whisper endless secrets
Beneath a warm duvet

Be mine in the quiet night
Holding wrinkled hands
Until the days are done, dear
Until our one last breath

Be with me in their sorrow
Let them cry over us
And know it is forever
As we turn into dust