London Poem: Day 87

12 November

I woke up this morning,
The rain falling gently, steadily.
The town was being swept away,
With I locked away, and concealed,
To wait for the boat to bring you back.
Clouds opened up,
And artificial light broke beneath it,
Building tawny shadows,
And little worlds,
Where everything can be,
And everything can be rescinded.
There are always two sides,
But each come hidden,
And it’s sheer luck
That it works out at all.

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