Till then



Christmas blows in,

I think of you


sprawled in the boot

of Italy.


Here the fog

hides the light


& at the harbour edge

the sea folds on forever


it’s  weaving at your feet

can you feel us?


You remember every detail:

the colour of my eyes,


the flower in my heart

you plucked that icy evening.


I remember the tearing,

the excess of you.


Love affairs do fade

& man-made Christmas


clones on through

the dark;


but still we lean

& bend


like trees rooted

to the end


in this bed

we seeded.

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