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