“From June to December” by Wendy Cope
You know exactly what to do–
Your kiss, your fingers on my thigh–
I think of little else but you.
It’s bliss to have a lover who,
Touching one shoulder, makes me sigh–
You know exactly what to do.
You make me happy through and through,
The way the sun lights up the sky–
I think of little else but you.
I hardly sleep-an hour or two;
I can’t eat much and this is why–
You know exactly what to do.
The movie in my mind is blue–
As June runs into warm July
I think of little else but you.
But is it love? And is it true?
Who cares? This much I can’t deny:
You know exactly what to do;
I think of little else but you.
And today is the twenty-third of June.