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After the Lunch - 11 months ago

[A poem by Wendy Cope (born 1945)] On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes, The weather conditions bring tears to my eyes. I wipe them away with a black woolly glove And try not to notice I've fallen in love. On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think: This is nothing. You're high on the charm and the drink. But the juke-box inside me is playing a song That says something different. And when was it wrong? On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair I am tempted to ski…