Thread Of Conversation In The Library - Poem by Mark Heathcote
I calculated whilst wandering,
These isles we’d fall in love one day.
My footsteps were like falling petals
With the weight of a demons heart that haunts
Neither nothing nor anything had I much to say.
I was reduced to record that funny moment:
That thread of conversation in the library,
The details of which still haunt me nightly,
Index finger over pouting lips
The Shhhh, as we kissed.
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