I was sitting on the top of the Number 28 with you
We were going to the cinema in the big town
You were reading Wuthering Heights and I was looking out of the steamy windows
The countryside was drab as it always was in the winter
Everything was saturated and dull
My grandmother was dying she was not expected to last the day
Her family had gathered around her last bed
I had excused myself by saying that I did not want to see her die
And preferred to remember the years when she was full of life
My explanation gathered much sympathy from my elders
You met me at the bus stop and was wearing my favourite sweater
We were both looking forward to the darkness and warmth of the cinema