He’d return with a pint of milk with a best before date inked 2010
I’d laugh and ask – What took you so long?
splashing the milk into my tea, chasing away the dark film
that lay there, heavy and cloudy.
I’d run him a bath
we’d sing that song we sung
which accompanied the piping ditty the water tank hummed,
grinning as we found the words again.
We’d sit in that armchair we dragged home,
the one in which if we stayed still long enough
the mice, who had stowed themselves away in the lining,
would inch from, nose twitch by whisker, under our crackling smiles.
He’d look for the TV remote which I never found,
I’d rest my ear to his heart
counting out the rhythm, ensuring there wasn’t a skip,
lulling me away from my decade of uncertain sleep.
The sunlight would chink the slats of the blind,
winking good morning as I’d stretch for his hand
telling myself he’d gone for more milk
as I'd glaze on a smile and boil the kettle for a cup of tea.
Michelle Davey (she/her) is a radio presenter and writer from London. She blogs as The Cockney in the Countryside and is a mother of 3 and autism advocate. Instagram: @thecockneybloggirl