In springtime first I spied you fair
and lovely as a fleeting dream...
Sometimes I feel like I'm on Mars,
You are on Earth...
Someone's packing their bags
which one of us will it be...
I’ll meet you half way
as I'm saying good night, at the end of the day...
There are pits
Deeper...
There is a
Fine line...
she slept beneath where the wisteria grew,
and woke with the blackbird's chorus...
I’m folding laundry again.
I see the little shorts you wrote a poem about...
I think that we should end this
I know it’s been a while but I think that...
A glass is for aged red wine, it's my favourite...
A plate is for smoked salmon, still left slightly...
I want you and
I don't...
The cheerful chirps are fewer now
Proud plumage plucked and bare...