london in november

we drove into a morning

that spilled light across the fields

in a way i don't think

i will ever forget

speeding south toward warm fire

and hearty dinner

we continue

no rest for the wicked

i am away

on a train

to a big town called London

where they stole my wallet

and i stole a cherry

and i began

all those months ago

and so i was to return

to see faces

familiar and sweet

to dance to tunes

that held my hair back

and put salt in my eyes

to sleep as a bohemian queen

in love with the night air

cold on my skin

to listen to tapes

and answers questions

why?

how?

when?

where?

who with?

to sip lattes

and make beans on toast

to hear accents

that have only become accents to my ears

of late

to be seen again

and loved all the more

i saw the purple turtle

and i am learning how to remember

and smile

at just how glorious

this life can be