Sometimes, love is

a cappuccino moustache
you don't know you have
which I kiss away

as we leave the cafe
and never tell you was there.

Love just has to touch your bum
as you delve into the freezer
to find the bargain peas
and the ice-cream that you like.
 

It brushes your hand as, between us,

we find the incorrect change.
You peer into your purse
as I fumble through my pockets
then you fumble through my pockets
as I peer into your purse.
And the girl at the checkout smiles at the couple
who still look happy

after all those years.

Love pursues the eyelash
which is making you blink,
It tugs at my waist
when I stand at the sink,
It kisses the lettuce stuck to your teeth,
Then offers you more lettuce.

Love shares a yoghurt and spoon
and makes sure each gets the last lick.

A blob of passata on the nose
turns into love on the kitchen floor.

Love walks in the wind and laughs at our hair,
And love is just loving having you there.
But love is an ache
and a thousand yard stare.

Love gets wet feet making a path in the stream for you,
Offers a hand and wades alongside you
as you skip across dry,
then laughs when you fall in the boggy bit

Love starts with a smile
and becomes a wildflower
tucked behind your ear.

Love is a stranger we meet on a path
who assumes you are mine.

Jx