Sincerely, Jennifer x

Making myself over in the shade of the old oak tree,
park bench salon,
singing our song in hushed tones,
feeling the thrill of your kiss,
still tingling on my lips,
living on in their longing.

Is this the word that we worry about?
I paint my lips to keep them patient and silent.
I memorise the Elizabeth line,
station by station,
stop by stop.
Stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before,
but I have a recurring dream in which I’m falling.

It isn’t the falling that haunts me,
but where I land,
and the land of possibilities it transforms into.

I’ve never been too quick on my feet,
but that’s because I am bound to chase my racing heart.