The Colour of Jam

Press to listen (by 10cc) while reading

My breakfast — marmalade, coffee, toast, the taste of new-found love, her toussled hair, loose sweater, lace underwear, an adventurous soul:

I pinch her ankles
tug her thick socks back up
cut the bread
spill the juice

she rolls a sock off over her heel
and pushes her toes
against my nose
I’m not in love on the radio

(...in melodic afterglow; a soft ballad played with fingertips …)

the touch of a cherry blossom
caught between my lips
that feeling of spring
even in midwinter

“my nailpolish
is the same colour
as the jam,” she says
“did you notice?”

it’s just a silly phase I’m goin’ through 10cc sing
I slip her sock back on
she butters my soul
I pour my thoughts into my coffee cup

she plucks a rose
from the vase by her tea
toys with my senses at the edge of her tangled hair
sips the scented reverie
her eyes sprinkling a dare

“don’t leave,”
I say
casually — I hope
“here’s the keys”

“tut tut,” she smiles, and sighs, “don’t be such a tease…”

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