London (1957 - 2010)
Glad to be on a train heading north,
away from the London of the uncouth,
where the milk of kindness ceased to flow
such a long, long time ago.
Malnourished souls rushing to and fro,
always in a hurry, somewhere to go,
with no time to spare for me and you.
We hear of the war years, the blitz too,
of friendships forged and good deeds to do;
but this is a far cry from the London I know.
Could it be that time made Londoners so,
or is it me who has a blinkered view.
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