I wrote this poem sometime back. It remains one of my favourite. Poems don’t need to make much sense. Sometimes you write poems because you have to, because the moment will never forgive you if you don’t…
Pyjamas I saw you in your pyjamas the other night. I should have lifted the duvet and invited you into bed. You would have said no but the place would not have felt so empty all the same. It is the story I want, and your body with its plot twists, characters, its controlled narrative. It was all there, bound in cosiness a short reach away. I should have lifted the duvet and invited you into bed. The landscape will have changed, but your eyes have not, I like myself in them I am a poet in your world. I saw you in your pyjamas the other night. I hope I was a mirror for you and you saw how much you are loved, how much you are desired, how much you make me happy just to look at you in your pyjamas with me this side of mine. Maybe that’s where the story ends each to our own pyjamas. If it is, I just want (not) to say I’m okay with that. I would have you in my view forever. It will always be enough.
