Turning Point

  • March 15th, 2019
  • Posted in Poetry

 

It was only a fractional movement

Of steel under my feet on the San Francisco dock.

With ringing bell and clatter the tram

Turned on the opposite line.

 

Continents earlier:

‘It’s Edward. . .’

Your pause was fractional;

You recovered quickly.

‘Off your radar?’

‘Not at all!’

But the points had changed.

Your heart was singing

In an opposite direction.

 

And now I stand in the glinting sunlight

Of a distant dock.

 

San Francisco Easter 2014

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