August birthday

The snow had fallen over the airport
and still fell as we walked;
the bikes abandoned
bent lovingly in pairs at the station
their backs to the wind.
We, the odd couple, not bent at all
though sometimes I wondered
ploughed on into the white
that struck the end of my boots
and winked where planes once stood.
Later you looked to the overcast sky,
my own eye casting
a furtive glance in your direction.
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