I dream of you, it's a pain to awaken.
I grab the eggs then I grab the bacon.
I grab a pot then I grab a pan.
Just to imagine, i'm grabbing your hand.
I reach for the milk, high on the shelf.
I cook for you, and no one else.
I grab the bread and I grab the butter.
All to serve you, in bed, under covers.
I feed you slowly, I kiss you the same.
If only this was real, damn you my brain.
I clean the glass and I clean the plate.
I think of my past and I clean my slate.
It's time I stop being stuck in the past.
I clean my hands of this romance.
Mouth watering breakfast James, how unlucky she is, but keep on hoping and dont 'cleasn your hands of this romance'. Very lovely write, well composed.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
imaginative and musical...enjoy your truth! keep feeling...i enjoyed your pen. I will look u up more often.