Breakfast in Bed
by Sherri
Turner
turner_jands@yahoo.co.uk
Leaving
for the spare room, he sighs
more
loudly than he needs to.
She
snores now, apparently.
So does
he.
She
always keeps the other bed made up,
these
days.
Those
days
there
was no need.
Tired
out from Saturday night
they
slept till late
then
filled their bed with sweat and laughter
and ate
toast carelessly.
These
days their bed is no longer the safe space it was
for
Sunday mornings
or
night time
or
ever.
He is dressed
already.
Old men
discuss football on the TV.
Early
as it is, it is too late
to
suggest breakfast in bed,
so she retreats
upstairs to shower,
and
ache for the days when it was never too late
for crumbs between the
sheets.
©2010 Sherri Turner
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