You and I spent a lifetime sitting
On parts of stairs untouched by feet
Looking at sunsets spilling into cups
Brimming with tea- never milked
And always too sweet.
We have spent our years on roads
Pulling the seats bending low
And listened to ceaseless chatter on the radio
With the fiddle of impatient fingertips
The songs always too loud for us to know.
You and I spent weeks planning
Colours of curtains and widths of doors
Huffing up furniture over stairways
And setting up tables on laundry boxes
Spilling cola on linen, and gravy on the floor.
You and I have walked a lot
Through clots and fevers without much care
On bad backs and failing wills
Buying impulsive bangles, but never earrings
Never having to worry about another incomplete pair.
