Forever Young in a Memory

I heard your laugh in a fit of nostalgia,

some trick of the mind in a lonely hour.

This Friday night has been spent watching

old BBC sitcoms and an old Scorsese film.

I treated myself to some cookies with a cup of tea.

It appears to me I’ve hit a lull in happenings.

In bed I dwell on the vast amount of time that has passed

since I last heard you laugh so hard you struggled to breath,

or when we hurriedly shared a cheeky joint

round the back of your local, taking tokes between kisses,

forever young in a memory of days

I didn’t see coming to an end.