Street corner




Crossing from Battersea

brown bottled river;

you going North, me trudging South

our fingers stretched to elastic

our footsteps sticky as we pull apart.


Your kisses always taste

like sunshine, light a fire

to steam London drizzle

into Rome twilights.


Our words paint pictures

in the air, I see you watch

my lips move:

imagining the taste of the sentences

swallowing my song.


You’ve watched me slide

through another’s fingers

noted the curves I’ve inspired,

only another pair of brown

anonymous eyes.


Light grows a minute a day

this time of year

and our kisses on street corners

grow pink blossom in January,

while sun meanders scantily.


We remember no huge


yet forever is where,

we always reside.

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