A Sunday, just as it should be.
Lie ins, 4 in a bed.
Dog walks, chasing rugby ball grubbers.
Soup, salads and toasties.
A long afternoon, all working in the garden.
One on a tractor, one behind a mower, one with shears, one with loopers, everyone chasing the barrow.
Late autumn roses, their smell fragrant.
A reward for their contribution, time at the skatepark.
A Sunday roast beef, all the trimmings.
Creme brûlée and Strictly.
Kisses. Cuddles. I love yous.
Just as it should be.