David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
Do you talk in bed?
Or do you read instead.
Or do you both lay there
In silence. Wondering where
Life had gone wrong.
Wedded bliss gone for a song.
What about those next door?
Do they talk or just snore.
Is their life that boring
Night taken up with snoring.
What about those in the next street
Do they mutter under the sheet?
Time in bed before sleep robs agility
A twilight time when mind lacks ability.
The time when the light is out
Is to find something to talk about.
And to go to bed with a kiss
Is something not to miss.
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