A Melancholy London Sunday Morning
Was walking around London in the early morning, my head full of thoughts and a bit of grief in my heart. Didn't really have any direction, I just followed my heart. Wandered near St. Paul's and sat on the steps. Then opted for an extended walk along the Thames.
What if the Thames could talk? What would it say? I suppose the Thames is a woman. Don't know why, I think it's because women are generally more interesting than men, and she interests me. I thought, 'If the Thames could talk, then she would have warned me that my last luv was not meant to be.' How so? Because one day two weeks ago my luv and I were walking by the Thames, she leaned over and gazed into the Thames.' 'The Thames is dirty' I said, 'why are you looking at it so intensely?' 'Because I've lost something in there.' she said.
I don't know what she lost. Perhaps she was being coy. So today I went searching for it along the Thames. But now, I've come home, tired and weary, and a bit teary eyed, empty-handed.
What if the Thames could talk? What would it say? I suppose the Thames is a woman. Don't know why, I think it's because women are generally more interesting than men, and she interests me. I thought, 'If the Thames could talk, then she would have warned me that my last luv was not meant to be.' How so? Because one day two weeks ago my luv and I were walking by the Thames, she leaned over and gazed into the Thames.' 'The Thames is dirty' I said, 'why are you looking at it so intensely?' 'Because I've lost something in there.' she said.
I don't know what she lost. Perhaps she was being coy. So today I went searching for it along the Thames. But now, I've come home, tired and weary, and a bit teary eyed, empty-handed.



Comments on this journal
Robbi, with fear or sounding trite I'll not say anything. But I will say that I 'know' what you write about.