It’s early morn, on this lazy Saturday.
And I’m going to enjoy a relaxing day.
But first, I must make my bed.
“Yes, just like Mum said”
Oh, I gratefully do remember.
As I straighten the colourful quilt cover.
That gift from my previous lover.
And I like to fluff-up my pillows.
Ready for tonight’s wondrous dreams.
Revisiting plenty of stupid cupid’s arrows.
I’ve a long, handy bedhead shelf.
It’s always untidily in disarray.
However I’m smiling, satisfied within myself.
Last nights scribbles are all on display.
I gather up this multitude of loose words.
Sorting the jumbled mess into phrases.
Snippets of my subconscious memories.
Pieces of forgotten wistful dreams.
Then I begin to decode my productive sight.
And happily I start to rewrite.
About the tea-leaf’s floating on a calm sea.
Forming love letters, from her to me.