We could have met in Croydon
for a coffee,
The 468 bus from Ruskin Park
is still journey apparent
I thought we could have shared our past
Dyslexia 
but like silken ash you proverbially
waved me Adieu
although I tried to explain
Dungeness and its shingles

It almost like you wanted to preserve
confidentiality, despite partially opening-up
about needing teachers' notes.
Nonchalant does not suit you
the past is not a closed shop
its a bridge yet
for peer acceptance