Passing the lovers on the sea wall, basking in sunset gold, the swooning promise of spring in the air, I feel it opening out – that foolish flower in my heart.

I slow my pace, drifting a while in the optimism of strangers, in the beauty of their believing. It washes through me. There is a shiver, a recognition.

I walk on, warmed to the core, and land here. In this room where, strangely, you still exist. In the embers, I sit with you. For a minute I lurch on the precipice of falling, unsteady; but I return to the centre of my breathing, and in its lovely circle I remember. To forget. Let go.

I think of young lovers instead; wish for them all the joy I once hoped possible for us.