It hurt to forget and take the wrong line home
To steal into my flat
Hoping the resident wouldn’t come.
To have to think about my movement through the crowds
With my bags
To follow familiar paths in the beautiful soft rain
Unblinking, unthinking, dazzled by the view
From my own Blackfriars’s Bridge
So often walked these past years,
Finding order, thinking through.
The familiar sight of the special evening light
And misty low cloud
Drizzling on the Thames,
Dark, gripping and crying out loud.
I have not left my home!
I just had to move out
I do not know when I will be able to move back again.
I still come to work a few days a week
But no time to enjoy,
Hurry in, commute out.
This is still my home, Central London, my flat.
The flat for 13 years and Clerkenwell four more.
I did not tire of London
I do not prefer the sea
Every project there is an effort for me.
My baby is confused, we are Londoners both
But the last time we were there,
He raged and locked me out.
So I said I would go home.
To my one home by the sea,
But that was a lie, London is still me.
The past has changed
I have to forge a new life.
Should I line these stairs with pictures of the bridges
Over the river blue carpet tiptoeing down?
This house was our escape from the strained London air
I worry I’ll resent it now keeping me there.
Copyright © Tracey holmes | Year Posted 2019
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