Thinking of You All Day
And wondering how you are doing
Thinking of You All Day
I wish I had a workshop, dear Asha, where I would make you things, stuffs long and cunning.
And there’s a tear in my trouser leg but you don’t abuse me with criticism, you take me to your bed in which I play a vital role in your happiness.
Please don’t keep me outside your heart like a stranger hanging about on your estate.
At the restaurant you hinted that serious relationships were not part of your plan, that they seem limited and rob one of joy.
I think it’s utter truth to utter truth, allow the gut to be your guide and think outside of the parameter that keeps one stuck in the same old ways.
Yes, there was garlic in what we ate, but we kissed at night anyway.
There’s nothing plastic about our sensuality, I love staying up late with you until the hours count backwards.
Maybe a stitch or two could fix these pants, or a patch with a stronger bond, something that is good for the environmental aspect of stuff.
You hand me a beer and I remark how I love the ladies a little thick.
I’m an offender in that regard — guilty. But you use it to your advantage, and mark my back with a…
