Saturday night
and we’re all staying home,
right?
Outside,
the air is as crisp as a new five
pound note,
as I wrote that I realised the notes are
not crisp anymore,
they’re tacky and plasticky and
downright nasty,
but warm indoors by the fire
with wine to test and to tire me,
and with a goodnight kiss to the family
he drifts away quite dreamily.
© 2021, John Smallshaw.
