For T

From a Bristol November,

To a Bristol forever.

Not a single book in common.

So odd.

Two hoovers.

Too many saucepans.

That slow cooker.

Best fifteen quid,

I ever spent.

The plants in the window.

The jug with the bees.

Letters in the rack.

Magnets on the fridge.

Photos.

Tongues out.

Smile.

Kiss.

Love lives here.

We live here.