In the time I knew you, I hadn't a home,
We'd send two letters at a time,
The night's sweet creatures, just sweet,
You and I only just finding 'our' feet.
I remember one of the first places you took me,
Rum served by Jerry,
A piano keyed by a man in smart dress and a topped' hat,
Low hanging, off lilac net curtains,
And ornate, slim, gold and floral seating.
A beaten leather suitcase subdued in a corner.

Not a single lamp matched,
And a river ran nearby,
Small silver bats flitting off it's surface,
Back into nothing, I'd sigh.

Since you, I have forgotten story telling,
And my words linger in my throat,
Until the moment has passed.
Bitter, unfelt and sunken, they slip back down,
He never wanted my stories,
How freely I can speak by the sea.
We never went there, he and I.
He wouldn't.

Do you remember meeting?
A lugged suitcase, your cobbles,
A bar that we seeped to the end of,
And yet found another door to outside?
Im sure I drank Rum again, and off you toodled for a cigarette,
But I heard a crack in the sky,
The heavens opening with a sudden lash,
An indescribeable amount of water, as if saved,
cascading over an old tiled roof, each cobble gleaming in protest,
And another crick in the sky.

Our, Us, it went a little like a storm,
The rest of the way.
It travelled just the same, patched up just the same,
It even came the same.


Suddenly, I slowly feel myself again.
Remember, I used to describe things?
And I haven't read a book in two weeks,
That is where the space is. And why I feel so alone.

My beach hums distantly, as you used to, some where far from here.
And I hear our old conversations running dry,
And laugh at my own leaving your letters at my other home.
I cannot leaf, and so i sigh in photographs pinned to my door.
The winter's evening sun sinks into my bedroom,
And lightens the detail on a memory captured.
I'm sure I'll find you behind the pier,
The wreck and the carousel.
Do you remember how we used to be?
I am, for now, sorry I was not ready for you.
I'd adore a cafe in the south, you and I, a book or three between us.
Conversation through eyes, a thin trail of your cigarette smoke,
A linger of gin and the way a kitchen smells when a cat eats there.