Good morning London.

Good morning London.

Hung up in blue

Vapour trails

Spider the dome

No way out

Reaching into the distance

They seem far away,

And yet closer to the touch,

Than yesterday.

When it comes

Down to it

Clouds have more mystery.

Drifting in their own time

Never mine.

Here today and

Not tomorrow.

Different strokes

Brush the sky

With a look

That may seem familiar,

But are painted

With a new hand,

Seen with a fresh eye.

And in this time,

Which I would

Say could last forever,

But dies as quickly

As a passing thought,

Lies simple beauty,

Never to be repeated.

There is

No need to wait,

As nothing lasts.

Even time

Has its moments.

And this is merely one,

Special,

And realised,

Only when it’s gone.