There we were
Eating our Sunday lunch,
Roast pork this time,
A glass of wine by our sides.
And as ever we talked,
Talked of many things,
The many wonderful things
That we had in our lives.
And then we spoke of death,
Both of us in our mid seventies
We wondered what would happen.
Quite a serious conversation,
We then thought who would die first
When my lover said to me,
“The one thing you will never be
Is to be late, you always arrive early,
Arrive early for everything”.
We both burst out laughing,
As yes, I am always early.
The problem with that though
Is being punctual
Gets very lonely.