London

I Have Never Been to London Before

I have not been to London, not a single day,

Yet in my mind, a sacred dwelling finds its way.

I've felt the touch of Fog so quietly deployed,

And sensed the scent of Purple from the light enjoyed.

The walls of an ancient Palace rise inside my soul,

And Thames's Bridges cross the stories I enroll.

I glimpse Big Ben within a breathless, fleeting dream,

Guiding the time, a constant, unimpassioned stream.

Hyde Park calls out to me with flowers in the breeze,

The voice of ancient Museums echoing through the trees.

I long to chase a striking scarlet Telephone Box,

My spirit floating where its lively current rocks.

An absence in my heart that tells a traveler's tale,

The distance builds a journey that shall never fail.

But I possess a vision, beckoning from afar,

To witness all its Lights beneath a Western star.

I shall arrive one day, however long the road,

The heart has named the city, for the dream, the debt is owed.

My longing sleeps amongst the Books upon the shelf,

Adoring every Capital, the city's very self.