Kevin Acott

 

 

What I’ll Do Then

I’ll hold a buttercup under her chin,
pick a dandelion and tell her it means
‘lion’s teeth’ and we’ll both wonder
how clever and sweet I am
as we blow our clocks into the wind.
Time will stop, the stream will twinkle
more purely, I think, than now,
the fields will offer golds and yellows
and the sun will seem a little less harsh
than it does: rather more forgiving.
A middle-aged couple will walk past
and we’ll make up names for them,
write snide biographies for them,
whisper and giggle contemptuously
about their mad hats and extreme age.
The day will slowly yawn to an end
and I’ll lean across and kiss her –
Rachel her name will be, or Amy,
it won’t matter at all – and we’ll feel
smug with love and share a cigarette.

And then I’ll leave her there and head
back down the hill, back down
into a town that will keep kissing me,
keep holding me too tight,
keep making me promises forever.

 

 

Kevin Acott is a lecturer, amateur photographer and glutton for punishment who supports Spurs, loves Trieste, eats cheese, listens to Motown and drinks the occasional whiskey. He writes poetry, short stories and film and album reviews at Something About England

Twitter: @speranza6162

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