December 26, 2010
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Slowly night floats past the airplane window
The ocean swells somewhere beneath the clouds:
Sleeping beasts, the color of my pillow
That swallow home in ghostly smoky shrouds

In a feast of light, London seems on fire
Yellow needles pierce a black satin sheet
We land at midnight but I do not tire
For true love blooms the moment true loves meet

London, land of poets, dreams, and royal jewels
Of ancient towers standing strong and tall
Of fire-warmth, lush parks, and happy fools
I have no breath, ‘twas taken by St. Paul

And here I am an ocean’s length away
I will return, we'll meet again someday

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sadie912 said...
Jan. 11, 2011 at 5:49 am
oh my god ! this is exactly how i feel . you have nooo idea how much i want to go over to England , dear . and this poem , its so pretty . (:
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