The Barbican in the pouring rain
And in the curve at noon
But not a drop did fall on us
Where ever our feet did roam
We wandered around hand in hand
Through lonely streets
Lost per our usual way
But we ended up through your thoughtfulness at the Blackfriars Public Inn
For a lovely arts and crafty lunch
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Retro. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.