I check the calendar as I always do
Checking that it is a Tuesday,
Not that I didnât know that already
But the days run together.
I wend my way up the stairs
Avoiding the one with the creak
That I really should get fixed,
But there is a strange comfort
In such a well-known sound.
In the bedroom I pull out jeans
And the underwear you laughed at,
The cotton granny pants, the bra
With the one small ...