the gentlest thought still brings a tear to my eye, when summer reminds me of those halcyon days. our pseudonyms scrawled all down the jubilee line whilst down at the park our twisted bicycles lay. we were young and in love, holding hands in the sun, in hindsight we were true romantics. not a second of our life seemed wasted, french kissing 'till the light had faded. and now the swings are wrapped round the poles where they once hung and the sound of the ice cream van is sinister and the tenement blocks where we both grew up ; how quickly they became your prison cell. even now you seem young to be pushing that pram to be bringing up kids both with different dads. for some of us there's just no escaping..