Across the river low spring tide
rises above the Plane trees
moss’d green walls and the smell of time.

The sun sleeps me with its warmth
unclouded mackerel sky, alone again
heart a tumbling ride of longing

for you
for life.

Across the river, apartments loom
the train lurches, switches tracks
behind me Ms Anonymous drones her everyday agenda.

Bluebells are pushing through rubber tyres
screaming upwards towards the light
I should be doing something useful, something precise

but can only stare with vacant eyes at white blossom,
the superimposition of your face, our lives
technicolour on brackish river, till with a sigh I turn aside

mesmerised by you
mesmerised by life.