

I wanted, by the lake,
To sit with you, under the tree,
Translucent words, caught kisses,
Unfocussed talk and stroked touches of me,
But it’s gone, our bench, it’s under feather flecked waters,
Broken pieces, I can see,
Swans, dipping necks, nibbling our seat.
Remnant of a park bench, fished from a lake in London.