Bookshop

Was it your blue eyes?

In the middle of the bookshop

Larger than all print

Making it silent

For us, for me?

And you listened

To praise for Midnight's Children

And lingered over shelves and volumes

And my face

And you laughed

To touch me in all the

Right places

You knew

But you didn't

And I breathed you in

Felt you wrap yourself

Around me

Slowly, quietly,

Present and correct

And all with your blue eyes

Like Atlantic Ocean

In August

That lapped the shore

And broke and frothed

That soothed, calmed

Fell against the cliff

And I took a
step backwards.