London Poem: Day 180

13 February

Happiness is a simple beast.
Turning up in pleasant company,
And common destinations,
Shaking the surreal out of
What the life beyond calls banal.
The lights are dim,
Pulling our eyes to a pinch,
But in the process
We cut out the world around.
Finally, in the soft flowing night,
Wildly opening up, with cold and with stars,
We walk slowly, arm in arm,
Unconcerned with words,
Thinking only of the life together
We have yet to see.

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