COMING IN FROM THE COLD

searching
in a second-hand shop
among the bric-a-brac

I found you
in a white Mac
I in a white Mac too

as if
we were both
spies

& had arranged to meet
here to hand over
secret dossiers

I kissed
the top of your head
as I always do

‘cos that’s how
far you
come up to

“The secret word
is Love! ”
I whisper into your hair

“Love! ” you echo
as if it actually were
a prearranged signal

although
only chance
had brought us here

us two
secret
agents

in the  sacred
espionage
of Love