This is not a love song
To you dear
From Christopher and Gay
To the west-end pier
Coffees and creams
Out with the sunscreen
Blossoms in bloom
Breezes so clean
Another stroller to circumvent
Of people chasing the dream
Another pair of eyes
Over winter-worked thighs
How the packages do swing
Any and every thing lost in the sheen
Awakened from chill-covered cries
Of longing for this moment
Down at the end
Where countless paths do bend
Around time
Elevated trains
Shabby dens of pleasure
And what came thereafter
All in their way
One of Christopher’s treasures.
©2009clarencecbess
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