Hoardings beyond the smoke of cigarettes,
shaped in light from doorways,
sulked in the London streets
whose window eyes had snow on their lashes.
Glass, lamps, darkness
mingled and snow-shadowed
memorise uneasy days at Kensington.
A room taut with suppression , quick in laughter
hid us from the street
and took us from the chattering cold
where iron rails sharp-edged in ice
stood silent watch
throughout the glinting night.
Dull District brought me, crowded and hot,
from where the river inched its way unseen
past bridges pale in sunshine
to that jumbled room of unsure smiles,
just scattered footprints
trailed across a settled snow
beneath a cloudy sky.
And still I cannot judge those eyes and smiles
from figures in a part of life
where a basement held light
and mocked the melting dark.
1972
Refer to: Apr 2022 – Couples