Grace

7f9809e0479f513c410518da972c0984by Helen Gundry Fletcher10 Dec 2013

A wave, arm arched high over his head
at me,
as I stumbled from the shade of Green Park
Buck House side
into the summer London sun
trailing new boyfriend and picnic blanket.
Suited, his cuffs emerged,
a fist, to me.

My wave, an arm arched above my head, to him
was a fist fumbling with sunglasses
restrained by my backpack straps.
My flailing boyfriend tumbled at the kerb.
But I looked on,
at him.

And he smiled
a nod, at me.
And strolled on with stylish ease
halo-ed in the city haze.