love, poetry

London Blue

Waking up was a problem in the pillow of London

Sitting on a bed while he waited to be wed

Fingering her hair when she followed him there

Sky above his head and oh, the dread

In his heart as he tried to sing

Those songs that he dreamt of creating

A moment of gold that reached the mode

Of creation, of salvation, or marrying damnation

Cut into half of his, half of hers

And choosing to do something of worth

While fingering her hair, oh she was so fair

Even when she was scared

Begging to be heard

But he woke up to his dreams and so many things

And she moved on, her heels in the pillow

While he looked up at London blue

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