By Parson Thru
Walking past the crisp-shop on MB
Young bloke serving, framed in the door, looked up
It caught my breath
Absolute spit of David
I thought he briefly smiled
I probably stared, then looked away, embarrassed
Strange, after 25 years, it can still do that
Would he even know me now?
Thinning hair, beard, grey?
In the morning, just to be sure, I looked in again
Young bloke was serving still
But David had gone