After the Tate Modern

by Rebecca Parfitt

Out into the wet smear of the Southbank

under heavy dirty rain we paused to kiss

then scattered like birds from our embrace

to run into the sheltered avenue of trees

shining blue white with lights

we ran underneath the bridge

through rising puddles

past the busker who was singing our song

the huddled skaters

and the homeless beneath the arches

but too late

our chests heaving and cheeks red

the train left us behind on the platform

winking and flashing electric sparks

out into the smudged darkness of Saturday night air

Rebecca Parfitt was recently shortlisted for the Bridport Prize 2011. She facilitates creative writing workshops in Cardiff.

  1. #1 by ramseaLeah on July 27, 2011 - 12:57 pm

    Excellent—could picture this vividly.

  2. #2 by E A M Harris on August 10, 2011 - 2:26 pm

    A very clear word-picture. I loved it

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