Sometimes
When I brush my lips against that secret spot just behind your ear
sending a slight shiver of delight
through your spine
and turning the corners of your mouth
upwards in that perfect smile
I am almost left thinking
That things might be alright
Sometimes
When your hair is ruffled and fruffled
your best dragged through a hedge backwards look
as you frown into the latest escapist blockbuster
so playful and innocent
without a trace of darkness or bleak promise
I am almost left thinking
That things might be alright
Sometimes
when I start in fright at the slam of the door
anticipating the slam of fist against once oh so