Above my bed hangs a picture frame I lie awake at night cos it’s not straight  Every day I rearrange strategize and I try, but I can’t seem to get it right. In that frame there’s a picture of you smiling at me when I’m hangin’ askew. And rearranging seems ok for a moment when I see your face and maybe some day I’ll get it right. And Raffael will come around for tea praise my horizontality but till that day I’ll hide away in your arms – that’s the safest place – and hope I’ve got it in me to get it right.