we were there for the kiss
on that warm day in June
when the world seemed to stop
in technicolor freeze frame;
you in a pastel blue frock
and me an ill fitting Sandhurst
blazer. We’d watched the ceremony
on a TV behind the bar
of the Special Forces Club
though Uncle Alfie wasn’t there
(something had come up),
then a car ploughed us through
the throng and we were caught up
in the moment and deposited
outside the palace just as
prince and princess appeared
at the balcony and kissed
and a roar went up around us.
I had not thought what that kiss
might have meant to you
and perhaps my indifference
reflected a certain aloofness
of my newly indentured family
that was to prove so fatal
to you, and me, and them.
John H Davies
29th April 2011
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