This poem was published in
Issue 3
May 2003
How does love get out of bed
to be there in the mornings? Always
snuffling out from the muesli,
padding round the kitchen
in slippers, or winking out from the milk
with big green eyes; always
saying: “Listen for the rustling
of the muffling duvet and
don't forget the tea.” Always
warm in the mornings,
more talkative than us.