Everywhere you go, you eat
So there are crumbs in my bed
There are crumbs on the floor
There are crumbs in my bag
There are crumbs in my coat pocket
There are crumbs stuck to my socks
There are crumbs in your hair.
I remember a time without crumbs
In my bed.
That's something I miss
An uncrumby bed.
But then if I had an uncrumby bed
I wouldn't have you
So I'll live with a crumby bed
Even though
In the night when I roll over onto crumbs
I swear and try to brush them out
But they never fully go.
There's always one or two
That stay.
So for the next 10 years
I'll probably have a crumby bed
Unless we stop having breakfast in bed
At the weekend
But I hope we never stop that.
I haven't considered the issue of crumbs
In so much depth until now.