Someday.
Some supposedly busy weekday.
We'll wake up around noon
And I will roll over
To kiss you before my coffee

And we'll make pancakes
Or eggs
Or maybe some porridge

Bowls in our hands
Legs stretched out
Leaning on each other
Comfortable silence

And everything is okay.

And then you'll look at me
And then maybe we'll make love once again
Or read Bukowski
Or both

And everything is perfectly fine.