Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
I can still hear your loud sleeping noise through the door,
if I was being abrupt
I'd say it's a snore.
But it isn't that obtrusive to me,
it's part of your calling card
as far as I can see;
a breathless wonder
found easy
in the dark,
always hooting every gurgle;
my love,
my brightest spark.
Simon Soane
Written by
Simon Soane  Manchester
(Manchester)   
  393
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems