When I come home from work You reach out And pull me on the sofa Straddling your legs Around my thighs And your arms Around my chest. You cover me like a blanket And I sigh. “Oi!” You scold me: My boobs are not your cushions! They are though: Soft and ample. But I am not resting on them. My head on your chest Listens to your heartbeat. It is steady and strong, And it firmly pushes away With persistence and intent My day’s...