London Poem: Day 116

11 December

In the night,
Soft lines lead east and west,
Folding into each other,
And swallowing all of the places
In between.
Finally, by the sea
With the wind swirling and flapping
And the street glistening beneath,
We follow the light.
How serene it seems,
Through whatever weather lives behind
These simple sullen lights.
Humming like angels breath
Are voices carrying on
Into the late hours,
But wait and catch it
As it comes because if you
Search for it, it is
Bound to pass you by.

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