Boro on a Sunday afternoon – New Poem 1st draft

Boro on a Sunday afternoon
You haven’t worn your hair down in a long time,
and it smells gorgeous, like spring.
I want to hold great handfuls of it,
and soak up all of your good energy.

My bank balance leaves us both quiet.
You know it hasn’t been that low
since I first opened it, aged 13.
I still haven’t got the things I need,
and the rent went out today,
and so many other things
are going out tomorrow.

But I don’t even need to ask
if I can borrow cash to buy
cheap leggings and a couple of bras.

You tell me that this day has been nice,
link with my arm and ask
if we could walk a little slower.

I help you choose clothes
that are standard,
and wish I could provide you
with beautifully cut dresses
and silk petticoats.

I’d like to remove all of these loud, hurrying people
from the shops. They are so not like you.

I want to slow down time, bend over backwards
and see this beautiful day from a different angle.

In the car, we can see the moon,
and you ask me to come for tea,
and tut really loudly when I say no.

You wait to drive away until I’ve found my keys
and am inside, even though it’s still light.

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