Stay Where You Are

You've got that look you get when you're about to be useful.

I know it. It starts in the shoulders and then you're gone.

There's a cup you're thinking about. There's a thing on the stairs.

There's a whole list forming behind your eyes and I can see it happening.

Stay where you are.

Just a minute. Stay where you are.

The cup's not going anywhere, the stairs will keep,

and I like the weight of you exactly where it is.

Stay where you are.

We're very good at doing. We've always been good at doing.

There's a version of us that gets everything done and speaks in lists.

And I'd not swap her, and I'd not swap this house,

but the light's doing something across your arm and I'd like a minute of it.

Stay where you are.

Just a minute. Stay where you are.

Nothing's on fire and nobody's coming

and the day will still be there in ten minutes' time.

Stay where you are.

I used to think the good bit was the going somewhere.

The booking of it. The arriving.

It isn't. I've checked. I've been to all of them.

It's this. It's a Sunday. It's your foot against my leg

and neither of us saying anything worth writing down.

So stay where you are.

Just a minute. Stay where you are.

I'll make the tea in a bit. I'll do the stairs.

I'll do the lot of it, I promise, in a while —

stay where you are.

Stay where you are.