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London, Now |
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London,
strange syllable city
so full of accents,
so neat and old of geometric wrinkles,
feels as though she hasn't tasted sweetness
since America departed.
I saw her,
London,
a young woman, the City,
a formal suit of perfect feminine wit,
a harmony of discordant blue and handbag,
carrying congratulation, a fan of flowers.
Look up,
London,
at your wheel,
so out of scope.
Look up,
London,
beyond,
see tomorrow's empire:
would you dare.
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