A Month of Sundays

Still in bed. Boris Johnson is the worst PM.
Sliced lemon smell fills the kitchen, then
hot water splashes over dance music.

Shower and shave. Zoom! Zoom!
Ready to shop. Lungs full of purity.
Exit through sun and smarmy security.
Three bells ring in the afternoon.

Cutting flowers into yellow shapes.
Stuffing balls and chopped carrots
drown in gravy, halfway devoured.

Explore a maze of wonderful things before
darkness brings our day to an end. Back to bed.

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