Footsteps in soft rain,
cold leaves blown in the London wind,
the rumbling traffic trembles the trees
of the park and lamplight fills golden pools'
reflections of city sky.
Do you remember the warm words
carried away like leaves by time?
the touch of an arm on your shoulder?
Do you recall the footfall
we left behind us on the dark path ?
We went on, you remember,
around us the lights of distant cars,
below us in the deep earth
there were trains running and
in some tunnel a young busker
playing a guitar.
The music still churns