Those three words
were declared
too quickly for you
by my slow tongue –
with a cluck of uv
Spilt – splattered
like my milk
from my missed
breakfast spoon –
three spills
mopped by you
Let them dry
and mark our time –
still too short of hours
to curdle
to ferment
to be quite – yet
those three words
were spent
by my slow tongue
having found
no other words
to gift to you