A Distant London Wind

The Muse Letter, June 1st, 1989

Distant london wind scanned

A Distant London Wind

Late that night in London
When we neared the end
Of embered loves,
We wandered hand in hand
Past a skeletal vendor
Roasting fresh chestnuts
On a Leicester Square corner.
As he turned them over
with blackened fingers
That stuck out through frayed gloves,
The winter wind flared the fire,
Making coals beneath
Flash Christmas crimson,
Brightening the grays
Of a grizzled face
With a healthier flush,
Fluttering thin white breath
To tinted ribbons.
If only the season's air
Had done as much for us.
But in that dark wind,
We merely became Yesterday's Times
Crackling across
Twilight's empty streets. Steven Dimeo

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