“Holburn Station” by Bethany Garry

The flower that grew under Holburn Station
where we had once laid great plans of love,
grew taller in the summer months, when we
drank to excess and I felt your fingers
against my instep – heady and laughing,
falling always towards the endless
days of sunlight, when we grew in joy.

 
Now the flower under Holburn Station
have thrived without my care, unwatered,
unseen, and I have not breathed
your skin in many days, when instead
I have grieved the shrinking days of
my youth – when will you take me back
to drink at the bar by Holburn
Station? When will I be young again.