London
The street is damp
stones glistening wet
as fog rings lamplight
like trouble on the moon
as fog rings lamplight
like trouble on the moon
and the night air is cold like
fingertips trip trailing across the backs of my hands
but I walk along the river anyway
hoping to go home.
fingertips trip trailing across the backs of my hands
but I walk along the river anyway
hoping to go home.
2 thoughts on "London"
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One could sing this if one could sing. Love the lilt of it.
“ trouble on the moon”— very evocative.