London to York
by Helen Barter
Trying to write for my daughter, but
the image of your ebony skinned lover
and a life which no longer includes me
keeps forcing itself into my mind.
Tall, elegant, shaven head and
those white, white teeth.
A smiling vision of sophistication
exotically opposite to all that I am.
The image will keep returning
at times of self-doubt and
uncertainty - like now.
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