“I’ll take you by the hand
And you’ll show me the streets of London…”
What a bitter-sweet feeling this time
Walking hand in hand with my daughter
I automatically search for your face
Among the busy crowds
Barely able to walk as the rip-tide
Of memories pulls at my feet,
And the sharp rusty-edge of
Love cuts me deep.
I don’t know which is worse
Seeing you or not seeing you.
London is not London
London, UK — September, 1982