Howard Firkin
Somewhere the waves are snapping at their sun flecks,
the leaves curl down in longing for their shade,
and cats, rehearsing death, watch swallows flicker,
            and incidentally you.

Somewhere a woman finds a hidden photo,
a schoolgirl sighs a poem, and a child
discovers ladybirds can beetle off
            and innocently you.

Somewhere new lovers sit and watch the old
deception of a setting sun, content
to sing old songs as if they thought them once true,
            coincidentally you.