Café in the Square
I was your peach back then
cheeks fresh and pink.
You peeled me.
Massaged my plump tummy.
Shaped like a pear
you said
as you gripped me
wide hips bare.
I lay.
The summer of 82
me 17
you 32.
I worked as a waitress
in the café
in the square.
I wonder did you pick me
deliberately?
Or did I fall into your path?
Had we not consummated
our love in your Covent Garden flat,
would I ever have listened to jazz
in Ronnie Scotts or
danced barefoot amongst pigeons
in Leicester Square
What fun we had
till mother's ruin took her toll.
You dishevelled
a wrinkled prune
forty years old,
me still a waitress
in the café in the square.
I thought it lovely and evocative. Loved the dancing barefoot in Leicester Square - gave me a real pang, not just for London, but also for those carefree days. Like the peach/prune symbolism too.
ReplyDeleteJayne