This is way off my usual scheme of things and I feel totally wrong posting it, but I wrote it on the spur of the moment and thought I could improve. Suggestions welcome. :]
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You still leave the cap off the toothpaste. Always.
Squeezing from the top so that the tube mangles,
into a wasteful mess. We rush to get that morning fix
with scurried words as the pot starts steaming. But,
we still find time to kiss.
I'll make my way to the office, FT under my arm.
You always used to fuss over that, with a playful
smile. Always fussing over me, even when I was late.
My eyes would clash with your smile,
and there would be no stopping us.
You left the seat up once, remember? Who thought,
such small things would make us say such words
to each other. But there it was again; that cheeky smile,
just melting away your habits and my annoyance.
How many years is it now, since that first fire?
