With blue checked shirt and smiling eyes, You made the wooden bench under the ivy. That golden band glinted on your hand, Which was rough as the wood that you planed. I danced around the garden, all blue sundress and chubby legs,
Poor Jonathon James always suffered from pains As soon as he got near his classroom. He would clutch at his ears in a tantrum of tears And would hide in the infant boys' bathroom. When louder he bawled his mother was called
I awake wrapped round you and your foot is pressed against mine. It feels smooth against my sole. I inhale your hot, buttery smell and together we stir, stretching with doughey elasticity in the warmth of the day.