We sit opposite at the table

You have reached your hand to mine

They clasp

You look towards one window I to the other

Tho sun has graced the gardens and obtrudes

Happily into our large kitchen.

The middle of Sunday afternoon and peaceful

The tape of Richard Strauss’ ‘Morgans’

Fills the room with Janet Baker

Barbirolli and the Hallé

The song tells of sunny mornings

Walking down to a beach

We are together listening in thrall

To perfection.

I look at you likewise in thrall

To a kind of human perfection

That’s all I want on earth.  

‍