With Wet Hair in our Eyes


And the rain tumbled softly on summer’s warm breath
As the crowds dispersed into their homes,
And the rumbling of trams became whispers that soon
Became lost in the crashing sea foam.
Then the world became ours. We walked down the pier
As the sun broke in shafts through the clouds,
Forming golden lagoons on the damp sand below
Where before there had been only crowds,
And a rainbow, quite faint, but enough to be seen
Arced across the now late evening sky.
There we kissed, all alone, on the damp wooden boards
Of North Pier, with wet hair in our eyes.

15 responses to “With Wet Hair in our Eyes

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