London - A Poem

My first visit to London, was during a holiday trip in 2007. Here’s how I memorialized it

The ancient matron grasps longingly for the sky, 
a crowd of bony fingers stretching upward, 
black threads tied to each one,
laden with dangling bits of civilization renewed.

Below, in her bowels, a gritty brown aroma,
and clattering, grumbling, tin boxes 
scatter frantically along well-worn paths,
long sullen with a heavy memory 
of countless other footfalls.

Humming and pulsing with the life force
of a thousand generations,
she swells with pride at eager dawn, 
and heaves a great sigh at setting sun.

She is the gray lady of the West. 
The history of the anglo man is embedded in her bricks,
and the future of the world flows through her heart,
and into the sea.