The lilac years (a poem)

The title has been in my head for a while. I figured it was time I did something with it…

Some things should not be repeated
but where do you draw the line?

Afternoons riding in buses
or walking side by side
in the summer heat
thousands of miles from home
feels like freedom

I hear that song played
in every shop along the way
I am struck by nostalgia
three weeks old
and counting

Afternoons riding in trains
time to breathe
before exploring the city
through scramble crosswalks
and record shops

The capacity crowd
is moved to silence
by a memory never experienced
then the music plays
and we sway

Evenings riding in taxis
whose doors open and close by themselves
leaving rendezvous not quite hidden
for sleepless summer nights
in separate rooms

I hear applause now through open windows
we secretly love it when the love story ends

(26 July 2017)