The Thought of You

I’ll still dance,
the way we would have in pyjamas
late on a sticky summer morning
with no music playing.
Your hair slashing across my mouth
as you fall in a heap on top of me.
I’ll pretend you’re laughing
and I’ll laugh too.
He will call us from the kitchen
to come for pancakes
and when we don’t,
he’ll stand at the door with the spatula in his hand
and smile as he tells us that we’re silly, we’re breaking his heart,
he slaved over a hot stove.
You’ll say it’s my fault and
I’ll be glad it’s true.
You’ll pull me to my feet, you’re so strong.
It takes all my strength to let you go.