Darling, I’m Bored Of Waiting

You were plagued by paperwork,
peering over your glasses in disbelief as I dared to interrupt you for the third time that morning.
It was boring to be second best to your best attempts at responsible adulthood,
me, modelling for an audience of none, in my new summer dress,
skin sparkling under the trail of sunlight from the window,
but you, so cruel,
too preoccupied to play,
wasting a perfectly good summer’s day with responding to letters and never letting me get under your skin.
You shoo me away,
like I’m a spoiled little kitten,
love struck and smitten,
sitting on your desk,
damned to be a distraction.