Like music

The sun is a heart

beating light into

the coldness of space.

And this heart is a

small, ugly dog

running joyfully

through the bright spring air,

licking the faces

of tutting houses,

waiting until you

walk back through the door.

And this dog is a star

that you can just see,

sharing its tiny

pulses of light in

a sea of others.

And this star is a shoe

tapping messages

on a parquet floor

in unsubtle notes.

And this shoe is a pen

walking a poem

through the streets of your

London on paper

borrowed from notebooks

full of your laughing.

And this pen is a record

with the best​ music

that you sometimes dance

to, sometimes with me.

And we are like planets

in orbit around

a sun like a heart,

like an ugly dog,

like a star, like a shoe,

like a pen, like a

record, like music.