My Two Londons
The first time
I saw London
she still wore
the scars of war
scaffolding bracing
battle-brittle bones
like the wounded verteran she was
Yet she never complained of the pain
The last time
I saw London
a tall shard
of glass pointed
to the future
an eye
you can ride
looked forward
and pubs still filled
after 5
Cities learn to love with their wounds
This is why I love her
3 thoughts on "My Two Londons"
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The way the echo of the 3rd is shortened is masterful
I love this poem This poem is comfortable “this is why I love her”
“Cities learn to love their wounds” — wow. Love this observation and the way you’ve built to it. This is why I love her takes it to a whole other level.
This is a masterful poem. Excellent!