My dark wood

I walked through my dark wood in autumn -

I followed curving paths through oak and pine -

Breathed air fragrant with soft rain and memory -

I saw how my days had led me here -

Walking through a mist that still lingered -

Looking down at a gentle sea - 

Durlston 

October 2025

Never letting go

When I was leaving, you came up to me -

You suddenly held me, your heart on mine -

Your arms around me -

I felt the warmth and shape of you -

I wanted to stay pressed close to you -

Not letting go -

Here in your house, with your husband upstairs -

Not in your kitchen for this long wonderful moment -

I remembered how you once kissed me on the cheek -

Said love you -

We were together here too - 

In your house with the paintings on the walls -

The golden saxophone -

The view from the window of the bay -

The high hill and the sky -

I didn't, as now, think of anything but you -

All else was gone -

Or when I gave you a lift to the quiet town -

You were wearing jeans, cut off at the thigh -

I kept looking at your brown legs -

Your hair, your summer skin -

There was nothing  but those moments driving -

You live in my secret life -

I wonder if I live in your secret life -

If, like me, you think of never letting go -

October 2025

A rediscovered land

I had dreamed of gentle libraries -

I woke to a London sky -

A Bloomsbury English with Sophie and Wallace -

We walked amongst creatives towards Russell Square -

Glossy ubers passed us -

A German auteur was showing at The Curzon -

I'd forgotten the taste of this air -

How it filled me with excitement and longing -

When I walked with Sophie and Wallace, I walked in a rediscovered land -

I unfolded a map I thought I had lost -

Bloomsbury 

August 2025

The three of us becoming memory

Wallace read the Metro wearing his Sakka shirt -

Sophie sat nearby - 

A dry wind swept over the platform -

The air smelled of dust and electricity -

I knew this station -

The tiles of its curving walls -

The fearful descent of the lift -

We waited for the train -

The three of us, becoming memory - 

Warren Street 

August 2025

At Tropea

Sophie and I ate almond croissants in Caffè Tropea -

Hearing the Italian waiters, I remembered Rome -

Our breakfasts by the Tiber - 

The first espresso - 

Warm morning light fell through the leaves of the plane trees -

Wallace was playing football at Cally Road -

Sophie smiled -

I counted all the stories I had to tell -

So many -

I lost them in her smile -

Tropea 

Russell Square

August 2025

At the London Generator

A cool dude checked me in -

There were jazzy murals, an Italian girl behind the bar -

Some muted techno - 

A pool table was bathed in dim light -

A flat screen showed young gods scoring impeccable goals -

Young Americans sipped flat whites -

I had walked here from Warren Street -

Walking half in memory -

Remembering the Northern Line, the fallen leaves on Highgate pavements -

I read a gritty page from a foxed Rebus - 

Waited for my darlings - 

When I saw them, I was mute once more with love -

The London Generator 

August 2025

Soho twilight

Tipsy girls sashshayed down Greek Street -

Outside The Three Greyhounds, a cycle rickshaw driver waited for fares -

A burnished BMW slid past us -

Chinese girls nibbled Portuguese custard tarts -

Above a narrow door, neon letters said Girls Girls Girls -

We chose gelatos from a sumptuous array of flavours -

Sat in Old Compton Street - 

Myself, with my darlings, in Soho twilight - 

Soho

August 2025