In this little corner of London

In this little corner of London

I stare up at the triangular sky 

In a million tiny heated rooms

People talk and drink and cry

I used to live and breathe this place

With its dreams and schemes and despair

A full-time member of the rat race

Yet still I loved it there

On nocturnal bike rides I would trace

This city’s flowing veins

Leading me to the artery

 Of the river, a deep brown stain

Down past Deptford Creek

Where the water laps at the decaying bricks

The gentle hum of the sugar factory

And the words of Joe Strummer on my lips

London was calling

At least to me

I thought that I would never leave

But just as quickly it spat me out

Maybe I was just naïve?

But as I sit here writing this

Some of that old magic seems to settle and fall

I pick up my things and head inside

 Some day I’ll return and answer that call.