Love was staying in on Sundays,
It was morning coffees in the living room,
And having our ''goodbye for the day'' ritual.
Love was always being on the go,
But doing it together because it was so much better.
It was having our bedtime but surpassing it each time,
Morning pillow talks and midnight conversations.
Love was hosting summer BBQ's,
Colourful fall walks and setting up Christmas trees.
It was watching How I Met Your Mother coming home from work,
Setting dinner on the table every night to put a smile on your face.
Love was weekly family dinners,
Playing cards with friends while being by your side,
It was making love in another country,
Always thinking of you and me.
Loving you was fearless, wild, limitless,
It was senseless never the less,
It was you and me, having wars of ''I love you more,''
And waking up one day knowing I have won.
About the Creator
The Reluctant Reporter
"You can't send me!" "There is no-one else. It's you or no-one, and that is not an option." Ameera looked at the fat paunch and florid face of her boss, a man who lived for the story and the kudos it brought him but who rarely gave consideration to the people behind the drama. When had he become so hard? She reckoned that by the end of the year, he'd be dead, collapsed from a heart attack and she struggled to conjure any sympathy in that moment and instantly felt ashamed at displaying the same lack of compassion that he had.
By Rachel Deeming5 days ago in Fiction
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