Darling

On the other side of this vision
that sometimes I have constructed
of cigarettes and rainy autumn days
in Stoke-on-Trent with short supplies
of cash and none of hate
is a smile as broad as yours.

Occasionally I remember how vital
are the airs we breathe and
the things they bring us
holding hands on a bridge
while the sun slowly falls
and we promise to be here forever.

Tumbling though as I often do
to sleepless nights and fled dreams
these moonlit walks are turned
to bus shelters and grafiti.
darling, turn my head again