Summer in Winter

Our breath has clouded the air for too long, and though I love 

drinking coffee by the castle ruins, swathed in scarves,

I wish I could see your mouth tinged

with the juice of fresh

strawberries

and taste the Pimm’s

on your tongue. Summer

in this Winter: late sun

throwing shadows far across

London streets; grey buildings

tinged gold and your hair brazen

with the last dying rays of our night.