The distance of seas and streets
between you and me now,
maybe there's sunshine on my wall,
doesn't matter anyhow.
Strays cat call, neighbours talk,
car go honking down;
I should have met you when I was 17,
we'd go walking in the streets of my town.
Tuesday or Thursday, it's just the same,
the light changes at something to five;
all I want to see is your name somewhere,
the colour of your grey, grey eyes.
If you were here we'd make dinner plans,
drink vermouth, you'd stroke my hair;
the evening would just melt away
and in the morning you'd still be there.
- Anjum Hasan
