Sunday, May 20, 2012

Waiting for the kettle to boil in the dark but lightening kitchen,
Hours ago I was self-conscious in the sweating morass of hormones and human affection
(I mean the dance floor, where I totally killed it)
I can hear birds singing,
And driving home saw newspapermen refilling boxes.
I could have read yesterdays happenings before anyone else got a chance to
But all I want is a cup of tea to watch the sunrise with.

1 comment:

  1. I like this. You should write to me a bit about Prom and stuff (at L'abri's MA address!)