Three Girls

I

You’ll always sit in the wait up through Barnes on the 72.

When I take the Piccadilly line I often still see you there,

head on my shoulder, eyes on my hands.

There’s songs I can’t play without your voice

in my head and clothes I’m still finding

strands of your hair in.

I’ve grown out the longing and the looking for yellow

but the yellow will always be out there.

II

You’re in almost everything when I sit enough to look.

We made a pact under the tree in Hyde Park

in the dead of night, in the wake of spring,

and left traces of glitter ever since to prove it.

We sang our lungs empty, often loud enough

for someone to hear, to matter.

We’re everywhere together.

III

You’re the soundtrack of the summer.

You’re in so many silences, in so many things

I’n not brave enough to say.

You’re in the rain and in the blue,

you’ve always kept me, still.

You’re the light, coming through

old French windows, and the creaks in basement floors.

You’re scattered in the sunnier days since 2016.