The moment that cold breeze snuck up on me at Euston,
as I stood on the right side of the escalator blissfully unaware,
and playfully ruffled my dangerously short dress,
is when I must have caught the scandalousness in the air.
The specks of Spring light appearing somewhat bright,
played tricks on my mind, rather late that night.
Arms linked as the stride casually synchronized,
while the start of the weekend brought the weary streets to life.
Thighs met over two Chai Lattes in the corner of a little Cafe,
as his aftershave wrestled Cinnamon into a subtle yet alluring foreplay.
The world went by completely unaware, as we
gallivanted down memory lane in search of a future under a sycamore tree.
If only the heart could be locked away in the Tower of London,
safely among fragile jewels coerced from Sunny lands.
Instead, the unfinished kiss in Leicester Square,
has confounded it to pursue a far more adventurous plan.