V.

I remember in Kennedy Town our apartment
number; also the smile I wore when I received
your yellow sunflowers. That night, the whole city
was colourfully celebrating the second day of
the Lunar New Year, I walked with you
in our living-room, holding hands, for half
a mile. Who cares how the world ends—
big crunch or heat death? I remember your
silhouette, those distinctive features on your face.
You may not give me undying love, but you give
me the touch; you may not give me golden
slippers, but you give me the hours.