Do you remember, in the winter…?

We were sitting by the fire,
your nose inside that book,

I had to restrain the desire,
to lean over and steal a look.

Goodness knows you’ve stolen yours.
And I know you’ve stolen mine.

Sleeping beneath the lights,
to keep the dreams away,

And in these colder nights,
I’ve just got to have my way.

Warm bodies off limits.
I’m writing poetry on your back.

This reminds me of home.
This reminds me of home.
Would you open the door?