Love I

The draught coming in the door 
and the sun hitting my face: 
the bus jiggles and 
takes me from this place - 
city days dusty with 
rubbish and people ladled full 
of goods like robots 
push and shove their way 
through the crowds of their own 
making, going home 
triumphant like they have won 
some important war.

You tread the West End 
sights, quieter, thinking of 
books and food, and me 
away, my sweet face 
and tousled hair seem 
good to me as I gaze 
at my own reflection 
in the mirror of you - 
your shining face thrusting 
light at me like a sun -

you - the only one - 
and I am going all the way 
as if in extremity I can 
reach the unreachable 
safety and security of faith 
hope and charity - a life 
of love good enough 
for me.

previous poem