Open 11am to 8pm
Royal Festival Hall (Level 5), Southbank Centre, LondonOpen Tuesday - Sunday from 11am to 8pm
He's in his element, finding his stride
for every two of hers, beating the boot-worn
path to England's roof. She gave her word
to go along this once, to climb her mountain,
but hardly warms to the "hard pulse of walking",
the pace with which they poach their bird's eye view.
Surely this unexpected tarn will win
the town girl round, this startled blink of blue
from sleeping green. Surely she'll love heath.
But she's short sighted, short legged, short of breath
and when at dusk they round the clouded peak
his heart drops. Her empty gaze brings back
that reason she once gave for falling for
and still obliging him. Because he's there.
I wanted a red hand, a pasting of sunset
over my becoming. There was a rain storm
and I felt the water heave beneath the boat.
If I had asked anything of you, I am sure
it would have been given. But this one thing,
it seems, is beyond you now, as it was back then.
I listened as the carpenter sounded the hull,
mindful of tiny imperfections in the grain:
a swollen tongue; a bitter sand-stained groove.
Homeward eyes said nothing new, as if all we
were was each other. I waited in a chair
in the corner. Come, tell me a tall tale.
She sits that
morning star upon my
lowest window pane proud
as would any Venus
The birds, meanwhile,
are making busy with
their chirps of
such consideration for the
Our eyes are drawn to the blue horizon,
the shimmering dot of the evening star.
We lose ourselves in the dance
of the moon, the darkening sky, the stray cat,
the pipistrelle whispering its winging,
the slugs who slither to lick our toes.
And the whole world is indigo.
I don't know how close you are, how far.
Our sadness chases us across the threshold
and there's nothing else to do but slip
between cotton and lose ourselves again
in the smoke of the blown candle. Your hands,
like no-one else's, the ring around the blue
of your eyes lift all the sighs out of me -
like the memory of something beautiful:
the moon, how close you are, how far.