Awaking to the noise of innocent birds
quivering in the shelter of the falling water.
I hear chilly raindrops drumming the surface of the windows,
making the satisfaction of my warm bed one of which even poetic imagery cannot define.
I relax to a heated glass of milk,
in the company of a delicious homemade biscuit.
Tranquilising on the sofa which I pleasantly sink into,
whilst my lover’s gentle eyes make the room even warmer.
The smell of the sizzling bacon,
that is succulently frying in the kitchen,
allows my mouth to water greater than my tummy rumbles.
It was no less than I had expected on a Sunday morning.
As I sink my anticipating teeth into the perfect sandwich,
I briefly appreciate that countless people would lust for this lifestyle,
that I hugely take for granted.
I could pretend that I care. But I don’t.