London dark poem

It's been some time since I've used the Blog, despite still believing it to be a great tool! For anyone who may or may not read this, due to its believe acquiesence, I post a poem about London, where I've been studying for the last few years. It's somewhat dark on subsequent reading, but perhaps summarised feelings on damp days there:


My dearest London
I’ll walk upon your streets again, my dearest London, when,
I tire of pleasant countryside where I have come to rest
And finally appreciate that town that knows me best.
When thrill of base amusement makes me leave my hideaway
To search for some dank alley where I’ll pass out in the day.

I’ll walk upon your streets again, my dearest London, when,
The cussing crowds all dissappear, and cease to squeeze and swarm
And sputtering, guttering poison fumes no longer keep them warm.
When acid clouds all reappear and drench us in a storm
And faces ill-remembered start to lose their shape and form.

I’ll walk upon your streets again, my dearest London, when,
With body gone and spirit free I finally walk alone
And streets become so empty I can rightly call them home.
When the darkness comes for me and light starts fading fast
I won't abandon you dear London; I’ll be here to the last!