The Kiss

I pinch myself when I think

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