Sing to me your songs of sweet, sweet love,
and set your music afloat on the breeze.
Or write me a sonnet straight from the heart
and carve your words upon on an oak tree.
Or proclaim to me a constitution of love
and make your rules and principles clear.
Or if you don’t have time to write such a thing,
then whisper soft, hushed words in my ear.
Or scrawl something down on a post-it note
so you don’t need to think too hard.
Or if you’ve got a spare postage stamp,
you could always send a postcard.
Or maybe leave a message with my mum
(07823 666 403)
as you’ve not been in touch for nearly six years
and I’m worried you might be avoiding me.
One thought on “Sing to me your songs of sweet, sweet love”