Declarations of love

Wake half -hour early,
for eldest son to rally;
neither of us are larks.

Bake the baguette he’ll
eat for lunch, having remembered
to remove tikka from freezer
the night before.

Scramble the daily eggs,
while sending electronic greetings,
so my beloved feels remembered
from afar.

Pyjama clad, inform the dog
that he is next, and
reach for lead, pulling on
the outerwear.

The days run on, like this
and into each other, blending
like watercolours in the
presence of a master.
You don’t see the drips.

These days are unremarkable,
and unmarked by heroism,
except my own.