by Gill Baconnier
If I were you, I’d buy me flowers
And gaze into my eyes for hours,
Or take me out to Alton Towers-
That’s what I’d do, if I were you.
If I were you, I’d book a plane
To Paris, where we’d drink champagne
While slowly cruising down the Seine.
If I were you, that’s what I’d do.
I’d write a book, if I were you,
And pen an article or two
To tell the world our love is true.
I think you should, I know I would.
I’d sketch my face in every space-
On envelopes, old shopping lists,
The pages of New Scientist-
I’d make a great Impressionist…
You are you. You’ll never be
A man who writes me poetry,
Or serenades me on one knee -
You mend my bike, unblock the sink,
And let me paint the kitchen pink,
You gave up smoking, gave up drink –
And that’s the way things ought to be:
You being you, and me, just me,
Loving each other