We kiss, we kiss,
deep
in the heart of London,
deep
underneath Piccadilly Circus.
Doubly far above us,
Cupid poses, silly boy,
his arrow quite irrelevant
to the love we share.
We kiss, we kiss,
under Piccadilly there.
Gentle, longing kisses
without pain, for we’re aware
while trains will carry us our separate ways,
through tiled ratrun tunnels,
our minds and bodies never do forget
or lose the loving memories of touch
that we have planted each on each,
until this parting’s in our past.
Janice, parting of any sort are always sad. A beautiful poem. Top marks and thanks for sharing it my friend. Hugs David
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It sounds so winded by running or by deep kissing, breathy poem. Poets kissing in the heart of London with one eye (fearless) to the cupid :) Though about parting, its not a sad poem; it somehow banishes all fears and leaves the reader optimistic.