Crossing from Battersea
wind dogs the river
low tide puddle of autumn:
leaves clog embankment
plane trees stretch naked
for conker sky, stitched moss
coats forgotten meetings.

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Train ride jets glide
under daylight moon.
Feet ache from street traffic
moshing tourists avoid stranger’s eye,
yesterday in our footsteps
always turning for dead smiles
only the ghosts stride easy
whispering their ‘’forever’’ song.

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