I met them for half a day
(we were making a TV programme)
in my familiar room. We talked
about poetry and were taken out
for an extravagant lunch. Such ice-cream!

I've thought of them since
with such relish of their likenesses
and differences it adds up
to affection.

It'll be strange when the TV flickers
and steadies and there they are, successfully
hiding their shyness.

Will I recognise in them
(so composed, so informed, so subtle)
those gossiping youngsters devouring
such soups and steaks ? Such ice-cream?