The best thing about being a poet
Is meeting you
Whosoever would have imagined
Such an occasion
Ships in the night, colliding
With all of
The coincidence
Of the chancellor balancing the books
You in your armchair, listening to the radio
Reading that collection of poems
That your best friend gave you
Last Christmas
And here I am staring out at you
From the page, who would have thought
All those years ago
That we would meet again tonight
