Snow On Tottenham Court Road


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5. Think of Home

 

Do not hold tightly onto city thoughts.

Tower blocks stand as half-built Legos,

Decrepit under a toddler’s stamped foot.

Do not think of city-slickers,

Those slippery creatures, in polyester suits.

Armani dreams sewn into Primark seams,

But ‘business acumen’ to boot.

Do not think of the monuments,

Hours spent at irrelevant battlements,

The explosive belly of Parliament.

That place where many writers vent -

Think of home instead.

 

Think instead of luke-warm nights spent

Holding clammy hands by riverbanks,

The mocking sound of the seagull’s guffaw,

Childish loves, midnight kisses at the door,

Walking through a hidden grove as sunlight

Throngs the path, a frosted chill entertaining

Candy cigarette breath.

Fireplace hung with mam’s stockings in anticipation

Of being stuffed to the brim with new Cath Kidston,

Knowing she does it for an altruistic reason –

Irrevocably loving her, and them, and this homely season.

Think of this instead.

 

Think of stumbling back over crooked pavements,

Watching fireworks blast onto a bright dark sky like

Glitter on a primary school card, dotted with Pritt Stick:

Shake the sprinkling off to reveal the stars.

Hold tightly to nostalgic thoughts of him and

Then and all the minute degrees between.

Of stone circles concealed within castle walls and that

Elusive magic which dances in the suspicions of your mind.

Do not leave that crackling simmer of the extraordinary behind,

As concrete streets close in, and routine is underlined.

As city thoughts possess, don’t let others be maligned.

Think of home.

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