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London, December<\/strong> I only love London in winter<\/em><\/p>\n Monet<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Daybright city darts in<\/p>\n for an evening paper,<\/p>\n comes out dark-savvy, neon-wise\u2026<\/p>\n <\/p>\n trace the city<\/p>\n in your tilting eye, river<\/p>\n cocking its snook through the post-codes,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n idling past fiscal towers,<\/p>\n great \u00a0see-thru\u00a0 slabs \u00a0of executive toffee<\/strong>,<\/p>\n shrugging off this faff of a city without a second glance<\/p>\n <\/p>\n as one rose-red bus<\/p>\n half as old as time<\/p>\n wheedles its way down Threadneedle Street<\/p>\n <\/p>\n and bridges lie low for fear of burning<\/p>\n and a million mobiles raise<\/p>\n their home-bound voices<\/p>\n <\/p>\n and forests of Xmas trees,<\/p>\n chopped off at the root, encircle London,<\/p>\n closing in…<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Once I knew a man<\/p>\n who wished his house<\/p>\n had two magical doors,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n one leading to London,<\/p>\n one to Cornwall –<\/p>\n \u2018think of the travelling time we\u2019d save…\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n But London, my love,<\/p>\n has so many doors<\/p>\n all hitting the nail on the head,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n London in its mysterious cloak of dark<\/p>\n not much darker than the light,<\/p>\n city where a painter<\/p>\n <\/p>\n can only work on his \u2018Crucifixion\u2019 canvas<\/p>\n when he\u2019s blind-drunk,<\/p>\n yes, that\u2019ll be London, I think<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n
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