One Step Out of this World

It was,
Before anything else,
The world,
That we left behind
Stepping into Kettners;
Newcomers
standing out invisibly
among jolly crowds
of Soho

It was
Me, walking my way
Through the snowfall
On Bury Place
Heading to the little
Shop that was filled
With the smell of old books

It was you
Stranger than strangers
Who knew yet what it was
To sculpt sorrows
Into humour

And then I remember
And re-member
Picture after picture
Sound after sound;
Rushing black cabs,
Christmas crowds,
Vintage back and whites, and
Revolving bar windows
At The Lamb
The way you had with words
Echoes of jingle bells
Slushy pavements
Sofra's Turkish coffee,
Tiny boutiques, lining Barrett Street
St Christopher's Place
My charcoal winter hat
Hustle and bustle
The Independent's headlines on
Student protests
You asking me what
My green bracelet meant
Me leaving the world behind
for a moment or two

... The weight of my wellies
The colour of your checked shirt
My story
Your smile
All
Framed by the gateway leading
to the train station..

It was
A step
Outside this world
Where
You and I
Met,
last.

April 11, 2011

The Postcard from Berlin

The postcard
From Berlin

It's corners
Are turning yellow
So is the image of the two ballerinas

And as I pin the card
Above my desk
The thought of you
Melts
First in my heart
Then in my eyes
And runs
Down my face

And yet
I am still
And forever
A struggling poet
For, the thought of you
Is the poem that
Escapes words
Always in the making
In my heart.


April 2, 2011
Houston