The beautiful girl
in the flowing white dress
struggled along the platform
at the Angel.
In one hand
she carried a large suitcase.
In the other, another.
On reaching me
she stopped. Green eyes flashing
like stolen butterflies.
‘Would you be so kind
as to carry one for me,’
she asked, ‘as far as Bank?’
I laughed: ‘My pleasure.’
And it was. Safe from harm,
All the way to Bank,
Moist in my palm, one green eye.