‘The Meeting Place’, Paul Day
St Pancras Station, London
In the shadow of an eternal embrace
you pulled me close, until my heart
thumped into your skin.
Now I only watch love arrive,
bicker over who is most late
leave for home holding hands.
The man pushes dust into neat piles
I shift a dull ache from one foot,
step over what the day cast aside.
A camera flash ignites her skin.
Time waits, I linger; reach up
to touch their cold limbs.