Gower Street Poem by Chris Zachariou

Once upon an ancient time
in the days of dust and innocence

Mr Clements at the gate
holding hands with D. H. Lawrence
—thank you, Mr Clements; thank you—

Nitah from the old landscape
leaning on an open window
fragile; trusting;
all soft curls and dancing bracelets.

Her kindness touched my life
and all that was ever good
shivered and trembled in my hands.

A shy afternoon—
chastity and desire
on a little yellow bed

an avalanche of passion
and all our days of spring;
her first cry, her scent
and her whispers.

We never said goodbye,
not properly. There were no
last words, no kind lies or
promises of friendship.

We walked away silently,
both too young to have known
such sadness.

Gower Street is now another place.
The coffee shop, the park, the little
cinema— all gone.
This is now a new world for old lives.

One, two, three hours go by.
How? When?
The shadows are so much longer.

How quickly morning turned to dusk.