Is there a place

Is there a place

Where my heart lies

Where I can go when the time comes

I thought it was to be here

With you

The streets of London

So familiar

Even in dreams

The jumble of it, intimate

And comforting

When my heart demands it

I walk from St Pauls

To the Tate Modern

Stopping on the footbridge,

To look at the sludge

The Thames at low tide

Remembering the chaos

Of its Millenial wobble

The laughter of people

As the bridge fluttered

In the dull sun.

The old turbine hall

Means more to me than painting

There is dignity in repurposing

Perhaps there is hope for you and me

In poignant recollection.

We stood together

In front of Guernica

And marvelled at the portrayal

Of pain and sacrifice

Bemused by Picasso’s artistry

When he was so uncompromising

In his attitude to women.

How many men were bullies

Before it became unfashionable

How many would be still

If they could disguise their intent.

I laugh at my digression

Discussing Lear

Over lunch in Covent Garden

The madness of it

A spray of flowers in your hair.

The wonder of dreaming

The disappointment of waking

The uplift in mood whenever

I think of home

Eventually, the streets I roam

Though labyrinthine

Will lead me home

I know

Just as sure as eggs are eggs

It is inevitable.