Good morning Sunday

Saturday nights are weird, it's not like Friday when you feel you should be somewhere, doing something because it's the start of the weekend and you shouldnt be wasting it at home. And it's not like Sunday, when you should be getting an early night so you dont go to school looking like a zombie. No, Saturday nights you can feasibly stay up writing on pointless internet sites, chatting on facebook or msn and eating marks and spencers pomegranite jellies. This, provided you havent got something more exciting to be doing.

Snow has put me off biking to best friend's house, i'd love to, but he has work to do and i have poor circulation, i fear id lose my fingers to frostbite and not notice till i was cycling back the opposite direction. Plus if im up this late it means i'll be in bed till noon anyway so i wont have time before it gets dark...

Anyway. I've been writing.

I was nowhere near you when I cleared a space across my desk,
Found a pen, clean paper.
You were somewhere else when I was smiling to myself, remembering what it was I wanted to tell you,
Writing it in the space beneath the date and a little picture I drew of me and you.
I could have called, I could have texted.
But you cant tuck a phone call between the books on your shelf for later.
Always 3 kisses at the bottom,
Brown envelope.
I wonder if when you read it, you'll hear me saying the words out loud,
in your head.
I wonder if you'll think of me, tucked up in my room, writing you a letter.
Thinking only of you.


Also, the timing on this is odd, it's midnight here in the non-virtual world.