Our Kind Of Sundays

Unwashed face, smelly breath,
Lazy us, on the bed,
Messy hair, forgotten clothes,
You play your favorite 80s tunes.
I climb onto your back,
With a ball point pen in my hand.
Slowly, I start marking all over,
Some poems, and a lot of doodles.
As I keep busy with my work,
As you sing me a beautiful song,
Immersed in your enchanting voice,
I trail some kisses down your spine.
Join me you say, with a gentle smile,
Only for you, then I sing.
I draw worse than a kindergarten child,
My voice is worse than that of crows,
But believe me when I’m with you,
I’m the best tattooist and a singer too.
With you…
I fall in love with me!
With you…
I’m at bliss!

For Eugi’s Weekly Prompt ‘Cherish’ and Thursday Poetry Competition ‘Love’! Cause, what’s love, if you’re not cherished?

Featured Image by: Ba Tik from Pexels (Feel free to suggest better imagery)