Colin Falck
HONEYMOON
Flaunting your breasts in the warmth of the space heater
You smile, and throw in my face
The black nightdress I bought you.
We are beginning to understand one another.
THE SNOW
The snow
Falls over London, blanketing
All life. Things
Move softly now
In a stillness of warmth
And expectation.
The flakes fall finely,
Bringing with them
The silence of forests
That finger the edges
Of northern cities.
A lingering
Pall of breath
Hangs over the brightness
Wrapping everything
In the warm whiteness
Of death.
