#52

Weekend
I creep out from the fluffy covers
To feed the cat
Is my excuse to your clutching arms
But really I am clamouring for tea

Upstairs you snore and I hear you rearranging heavy furniture
Downstairs I make arrangements with the cat
To keep farts to a minimum of decibels.

The postman knocks the peace into our dreams,
But he is friendly and bears gifts for you.

I creep back up again
And slide your tower of parcels along to your side of the bed
You roll over, grinning at my sneaking,
And deliciously we unravel the postman’s treats.

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