Another poem.

Can't think of a title:

A man. A woman.
Sitting on the steps
of a Church in London.

A stifling silence.
Seconds fade. The man sighs,
"So what are we to do?
Will you be my tragic muse?"

A mirthless smile.
A soft sad kiss on the shoulder.
And a heavy, hesitant stance.

A man. Sitting
silently on the steps
of a churchyard, thinking.