For anyone who has fallen in love in London – skipped through Covent Garden’s cobbled streets, run across Waterloo Bridge hand-in-hand, spent evenings getting drunk on wine in the candlelit basement of Gordon’s Wine Bar – this may resonate…
AFTER THE LUNCH
On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I’ve fallen in love.
On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. you’re high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?
On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You’re a fool. I don’t care.
The head does its best but the heart is the boss.
I admit it before I am halfway across.