This poem by Society member Steve Walter was selected for Folio #74, published in 2020
All summer, falling in love with the city
as if it were dying…
Autumn, and you have slept
through the echo of sirens
half-aware of buildings hundreds of years old,
of vaulted stone, cathedrals breathing,
reflections in shop windows, of him
threading his way through your skin.
Bucks Fizz for breakfast, thick pile carpet
between your toes, before
lunch at The Ivy, passing by empty coffee cups
held out for coins.
Your secrets left in the bedroom,
climbing to the moon,
the muffled rush of traffic, Westminster Abbey,
royalty beneath flagstones,
the shift of populations – their story
plays, until the needle hits the label, and scrapes.