It is that morning
One photograph
Makes me say
It’s Saturday
Time to start writing
To pour out the thoughts
Such as, with all the positive spin
You still find inherent negativity
If someone says: “you can be better”
Does it mean you aren’t already
I thought of how my friend
Spoke of his euphoric vacation
With his family from the past
I could use it, in such a story of the idyll
A spot to aim for if you are feeling down
Yet it is lost; it is gone, left purely as nostalgia
Though even to think of that nothingness
Knowing you never quite reached there
As you take a cup of tea to the bedroom
An offering, that might also disturb her