Love, have you seen my blue pyjama pants?
Our marriage once had sparkle and romance.
The blue ones. Are they still in the machine?
I sometimes dream of all that might have been.
What’s that? The ones I’m looking for are blue.
My thoughts return to when our love was new.
My blue pyjamas... What’s the matter, dear?
I sometimes wonder if you know I’m here.
I know you’re here. I asked you if you knew...
Why don’t we make love like we used to do?
What, when we lay together hours and hours?
On silken sheets bestrewn with scarlet flowers...
And us together naked, sans pretence...
And fumes of joss-sticks overpowering sense...
And soft caressing tunes on mandolins...
Yes! Yes! But first – could you put out the bins?
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