A woman could just as well
have been sliding
naked
Over the invisible moon
Hidden by
the legendary pea-soup fog
So famous
for its tuberculosis
A time when poets
wrote on water
As I slowly walk
from St. Paul’s missing eye
To the Westminster South Bank
Noticing
how blue
the leafless trees are
Against the dark
serpentine Thames
Where so many thoughts
must have rested
on the benches
on the benches
Dreaming the nymphs
of yesterdays
and tomorrows
In mid-summer eves of loneliness
beyond the pubs
and mythic sun
But that was long before I ever was
Now to be the last
to see what’s left
Wondering what all
must have looked like
and been
Before the vines
on the crumbling buildings
and statues
and statues
Like the one with a man standing proudly on top
AsIDream 