I spied Spider-Man in his espadrilles, he was on the esplanade
I was eager to enquire about his latest escapade.
He said: "I'll catch you at the cafe, once I've conquered the arcade.
Take a table on the terrace, mine's a lime and lemonade."
We spoke of past and present, and the life that we had planned
Then set about our sandwiches, to the sound of a brass band
There was a flimsy feather floating, guided by an unseen hand.
Fluttering forlornly, it fell forgotten on the sand.
As we mused upon this metaphor, we both went misty-eyed
There was no need to say a word, no need for whens or whys.
We polished off our puddings and said a sad goodbye,
Had a hug, then hurried home and got on with our lives.
