Teacups.
Those nights together, lying
around the room like clumsily
Placed cushions, legs dangling from
The armchairs, rain hammering,
Steam rising.
Was I there?
I don’t remember anything but the fire,
laughter and the niggling
Of contentment through my body.
I was there,yes.
And you were too
I’m sure; they wore white plimsoll shoes-
I’d kept my hat on. She asked and
You glowed
And we rambled-
Everything and nothing to discuss.
These things I see and feel and love and lose.
Once full,
half drank,
Now empty teacups.
