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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