Highly commended

Valerie Morton from Wheathampstead, Herts 

Solitaire

The bar’s still there at the Gare du Nord,
tucked in that moody corner; I’m upset
at how it’s tarted up and a new decor

illuminates the table where we met,
breathless together in the Paris air.
You’re the way I see you - I can’t forget:

smoking your pipe, with time to spare -
one hour until your journey to Marseilles.
You offer me my very first Sancerre

and through the bowl of every glass I see
your face distort in its mellow glow.
I smile - as sure as any girl can be.

It’s time to leave you here. But before I go
I breathe the steam and hear a whistle blow.