Wishful Thinking on a Cold Autumn Morning
There's a touch of Winter in the air, a cold nip in the breeze, I feel it 'round by ankles, need a rug around my knees; and a scarf to warm my neck, some socks for my cold toes; woolly gloves and jumpers to cover every bit that shows. I've hopped back in my nice warm bed no desire to start the day;
I'd like hot rolled oats for breakfast, not cold, wet, Special K.
That bathroom floor was cold as ice BENEATH FLOOR HEATING would be nice, perhaps a bell, that I could ring; for a maid to handle everything.
Or a man, a nice one I could call my own but, one who's oats is long-since sown; not one whose eye would glint with glee, as he wondered "what's in this for me".
Just an ORDINARY MAN, a simple soul, pleasing me his only goal.
There'd be sweet brown sugar melting on that bowl of creamy oats, a red rose, in a vase, the poor man, how he dotes. He'd warm my fluffy slippers, place my gown within my reach He'd spoil me with a tasty treat, a lovely juicy peach. And then, he'd GO, and I'd relax while he checked emails and did the tax, fed the cat or walked the dog fixed the fire with another log . . . anything . . . Oh!! what joy, if only hecould do all these things QUIETLY. What a lovely Winter I could plan, if I could find such a man.