Ode to London
Considerable moonlight reaches even the darkest alleys and lights them up with a silvery haze. Throngs of people in raincoats take cabs or buses through serpentine streets to escape the storm. There is no knowing how long it will last. An hour. Two. More.
Daylight is a funny thing here in London. It overextends its stay all summer, then abandons the masses for more time in the south. The streetlamps work overtime in the cold seasons and the heaters make a pleasant warmth in pubs, theaters, and restaurants. The skeletal remains in the museums covet them. If only we had those…
But that is it, the history of this place. Blurred into the shops, plazas, and parks. Places of time travel without ever falling back in time because around the corner, there is progress. Growth. The modern and the quaint stand side by side. How is it these can coexist?
Nobody waits a long time here, not for buses, trains, or thrills. They are all around. Boat rides on the Thames, strolls through Hyde, and late nights at the pub. It is a place where strangers become friends, and time passes slowly, then all at once it rushes forward.
Grand fountains grow moss on their stones. It tells the world there is age, and where there is age, there are stories. Sometimes people must wait to hear them. A visit to Bloomsbury might speed up the process. Big Ben chimes on the hour and Parliament stands where it has for over nine hundred years. These buildings of old, saturated in wisdom, wake sleepy spirits.
There remains a timelessness about the city. In the cobblestone streets and on the stoops of brick row houses. Throughout the markets, fairs, and boroughs. London eagerly awaits new tales and seeks them out in the neighborhood narrows. History does not die here. It comes alive.
