We kiss, we kiss,
deep
in the heart of London,
deep
underneath Piccadilly Circus.
Doubly far above us,
Cupid poses, silly boy,
his arrow quite irrelevant
to the love we share.
We kiss, we kiss,
under Piccadilly there.
Gentle, longing kisses
without pain, for we’re aware
while trains will carry us our separate ways,
through tiled ratrun tunnels,
our minds and bodies never do forget
or lose the loving memories of touch
that we have planted each on each,
until this parting’s in our past.
Janice Windle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-d-nall-parting/
