London Sun

Sun spilt my path along the Dalston roads,

and, I swear, some of those twenty zones 

and traffic lights that changed to red as I

approached them made me think of you again -

not that I had stopped for very long.

Your gravity pulled on me all the way 

through Islington. The hours I spend with you 

are caught in time - your perfume in a room -

that oils my heart and lubricates its pulse. 

I drove through brightness between trees like those 

we saw yesterday as we sat and talked 

by London Fields. I tried to teach you songs 

I learn and play myself when you’re not here,

those evenings when the sun on fallen leaves 

is beautiful, like you are when you smile.

And sometimes when I play I hit the sweet

spot of a note, harmonic, true, that does 

the indefinable and stands the hairs

up on my arms. And this is me in words 

this morning, driving, music moving soft 

as London sun, and thinking about you.