A glass of Prosecco in hand standing

By the worktop we spoke together as

We always do, truths and hurts, and

Understandings coming together as

They always do.

Listening to the Blackbird singing

I watched her cooking from my chair

She tasted the sauce from her fingers

And said, “Could you lay the table?”

“And bring the wine too?”

We talked some more, and ate and

Drank some more too, then off we

Went to bed.  I held her in my arms

Thinking how blessed I was, as

I always do, and slept