One tea, one black coffee...

You called me babe, calling from the kitchen, me dozing in bed light pouring through the gap in the curtains, tears streaming as I’m yawning. Not caring what time it is as long as you’re with me and we’re not running late.

One morning with you…

Every morning with you…

Each one casting my wonderful dreams a shade of gray in comparison to the outlook of a day with you by my side.

Not even 12 months together and I’d lie there counting down the days, months and years until the light would shine through those very same curtains onto a diamond in a cushion in my outstretched hand as you returned to bed with a cup of tea and a single black coffee.

The joy we would feel. The joy we had felt.

Babe was a throwaway word until you threw it to me. I caught it and felt its weight, carrying more than just 4 letters in 1 syllable but an expanse of hope and a sense of fate like a key to a lock that would have remained undiscovered had you not been there with a torch to illuminate my world with your sheer radiance.

Now I’m no wordsmith, I’ve made that much evident but you make my heart sing like a full choir backed with a 32 piece orchestra, all at your command as you stand there waving your little stick with ease and my senses tingling as you cast your magic through me.

As I lie here hundreds of miles away I can still hear your voice calling to me, over the sound of the kettle boiling and the smell of a mug of tea and a black coffee brewing on the kitchen worktop.

On the days when you lacked strength I would be the one stood there, pouring my heart in with the cold water as to not burn the beans.

I’d look into that mug brimming with caffeine and wish that I too could fill you with a zing of energy every single morning. How I wanted to be there, every single morning.

Babe was a throwaway word until I caught it. And it was so heavy that I fell so deeply and madly in love that no quantity of throw cushions could have prevented me from coming apart when I eventually, inevitably, hit the floor. It will take more than the kings men to put this Humpty Stupid Dumpty together again.

But I will always hear from a room down the hall, the smell of tea, coffee and my single favourite word of them all.