I took the buds off
your peonies when I was
nine years old. Sorry.

Catherine's new law:
thigh-length coverage needed;
leggings are NOT pants.

Fat festive penguins
decorate green pyjamas:
8am school run.

Fossilized leaf
immortally captured
in concrete prison.

Hit on in Starbucks---
apparently I'm glowing.
Radioactive?

While I slept, she rose
from our bed to write poems
for another girl.

Echoing droplet;
tiled floor bouncing drip-sound.
Yet another leak.

Shining steel kettle
sings loudly from the hot hob.
Hush! I'm on my way!

It had to happen.
I'm very predictable.
Burnt the bloody toast.

First frost of autumn,
Keats' mists descend to the ground.
My mood is mellow.

Broken internet,
exam, dentist appointment:
Typical Monday.

Quiet study room:
Opening zips and chair scrapes
were never so loud.

Pretend it's morning,
and that these words are fresh and new.
Let's re-do the day.

Confused flowers;
late summer blooms bursting forth:
Sweet peas meant for June.

Blood pressure rising;
Romney is out of control.
Baz: the way to go!

Yikes! Look at the time!
Morning ticks swiftly away--
get that wiggle on!

It's been ordered;
delivery imminent:
where is my new yarn?

Woken up at one,
sounds: repeating, annoying.
Cricket in garage.