The Vines of my Promise
Don’t forget my hardened love.
Though the world has drunk itself to pieces,
Smashed with endless colonies,
Something else was passed between us
In the drifts of easy life.
London as it might have been
Now encloses this my empty season –
Is there still a path to beat?
Heavy stone meets heavy stone. Persistent,
Swearing echoes fill the street.
The buildings in this town stare back,
Holding on to shapes of past ambition,
Every corner implying the sun.
Soon the clouds are gathering, soon breaking
Down the recrudescent Strand.
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