One London Night

‘Cold do you have any reason
For smitting me' she cries.

The cold tears through the London night
In the North West and grabs her body

She sits quietly in darkness with
A painful guest in the shade of night
How she cries and enwraps in a blanket

She reaches for her willing company, the phone
But it has no voice. There in the dark
On the coach she couches

poem by Jerry Waterfields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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