Friday, 22 May 2009

A poem, about the only one I've done.

Dear Celia

I hope you’re feeling better,
Than you were before,
That you will cook me dinner,
Get up off the floor.

I hope you won’t bleed too much,
And the nurse won’t ask,
How you hurt your face again,
Just replace your mask.

I hope you know I’m sorry,
This time and again,
No need to fill that bucket,
I’ll clean up the stain.

I hope the wounds will heal now,
And you want me back,
To leave me now is stupid,
Just a little smack.

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