65: Autumn

Bring a scarf tomorrow
weave it past your neck and hair
and when the wind picks up the phone to call you,
go and meet it there.

'Cause the windows shook alive and vital
the walls echoed in the silent storm
the doors slammed shut
in utter revival
in this battle between the outdoors
and man, alone.

64: Businessmen

The seat was taken by a stranger
who wore suits with certain leisure
with defiance in every single thread,
that was custom tailored.

and his shoes, did they shine so
with opaque beauty?
uncracked and unbent, like perfect stories.
Too fortunate, it was, to be so consumed with the other,
and to keep the old style as it was and as it were.

63: London, she's coming home

London, she's coming home.
Our adopted child who grew alone
and yes, the gifts are brimming
with vague thoughts and complimentaries.

She's coming from the other sphere
carrying loads of culture on her back,
with mouth shot from all its
debate and glory,
her famed spirit never got enough.

London, she's our brave old girl
with her boots to kick
and the fashion twirl
but she can't make a beauty out of nothingness at all;
don't mind her endless uselessness
and waste-worthy presence
because after she leaves,
London, we will fall.