Rue Reconcile (Supper on a train)

Cold duffle day, dreaming spire turned into a steam train
rain on my fingertips
as I touched up for snow
thinking it was you.

Orange fronted cafe, coconut bread and coffee
black.

You pulled me through your zigzag fingers

a silk handkerchief
found in the back of the drawer- a summer too late
for such delicacy.


There was only one way of finding out,
flailing lightly in the flippant breeze- we stood on our hill, holding our tongues, until they turned like lilac blooms...

watching the City tidy up it's Sunday papers, washing up behind twinkling curtains,
carefully sorting the recycling and pumping up bike tyres for tomorrows retreat.


Now, back indoors...the bright bobble hat keeps me warm. My beautiful friend gave it to me for Christmas
and it tickles my forehead when I wear it
and reminds me I am loved by someone.

Lit the palest pink candle, on my desk
to test the truth of what you said.

All slides...open mouths, falling.
I slip your cardigan off...layer upon layer. You really do like wool.
We wind up staying with the night
and one another.

Supple Beaujolais season
...to Paris. A ladder of lessons

I am climbing  
slowly
to
the top
of whatever might be
up there. Apple blossom
and a cautionary
tale.