This is my dressing gown,
you wore it on winter mornings, when
I made breakfast, just before we showered -
most recently, you wore it that morning you
stayed round my house.

You text me from my bed to ask if
it was okay to come down. I only read it
after you'd already done so. And I made you
breakfast. We watched Al Jazeera until you
had to go. I smiled before you turned the corner
at the top of my road, as I'd do weeks later, the
last time you were round - with your bike.