Waves

When London came, she dreamt of days and nights upon the sand, and promised but to fading breath the banished ancient land of fleeting chance and constancy in all that can not hold, and never interfering but to let this life unfold. When London came, she lay this broken love upon the sand and found it rough and callous to the softness of her hand. She bent to ancient rhythm and the sweetest sin was sold; she traded grace and glory for a story never told. When London came, she lay the heart now dying on the sand among that breath, its final hope of careful days it planned. She swore her love and freedom to the life she would uphold… but tender heart, in solitude, remains forever cold.