After the Lunch
© by Wendy Cope

On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes,
The weather conditions brought tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove,
And try not to notice I've fallen in love.

On Waterloo Bridge I'm trying to think:
This is nothing. You're high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?

On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I'm tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care.
The head does its best but the heart is the boss -
I admit it before I am halfway across.

Submitted by Corinne

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