In the rain we met
On a Sunday too
A day for promenading
With a girl round Hyde Park
From nowhere you sprang
You appeared before me
Fresh faced - like the sun
Peeping through the rain clouds
Your pretty features - blonde hair
What - nineteen?
Too good for me
Yet you chose to stay
And you smiled as we walked
Laughing through the rain
As we shared my umbrella
And listened to the racists
And the Marxists,the athiests
Even the preachers too
And those who did announce
'That the end is nigh'
Your eyes sparkled
With the mirth and joy of it
To the world did we appear
Like another couple in love?
Perhaps - but then
I let you slip - I had to
And you joined the crowds on Oxford Street
And I chose to stay
With the Marxists in Hyde Park
In the rain
My love owned by another
On that Sunday afternoon.
-
Author:
dbremner (
Offline) - Published: December 6th, 2011 14:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 56
- User favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy.
Offline)
Comments1
Poignant and bittersweet, with wonderful imagery painting that seeming moment of ecstasy which had to inevitably be relinquished. I love the images, half intrigued by the tale, for something so much deeper seems lurking, just evading my comprehension. Excellent....I like it.
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