I went down to Covent Garden
to listen to the cappuccino machines.

I watched the scruffy lovers
playing beatnik tricks,
they wore tackety kickabout boots
tied up with string,

she sang
as he tapped out a tune
on his tatty old acoustic,
it rained
it rained on their peaked black caps
and their odd socks,
they stole kisses from the rain.

I watched, I watched as
the touch-torn lovers
the lip-bitten lovers
the scruffy lovers,

tumble down days
made tatty with love,

what we are
is love.




Filed under Poems 1983-1991

3 responses to “Scruffy

  1. Still love this one

  2. siphilbrook

    Thanks Carly. It is one of my favourites, hence it is here.

  3. Thankfully some bloggers can still write. My thanks for this piece..

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