I'm pretty sure I'll save this forever.

DAISIES OF LONDON

The still of silence wakes me at dawn.

As I try to stand, I’m bound in bed, by the weight of the summer air in
Virginia.
I try to drown out the white noise of another day at home with the silence of a
new sun,
but New York skies and Appalachia are calling my name through greens and blues;
a collision of hues so magnificent even Da Vinci would be inspired by it's
Creation.

Maybe I’ll let my mind take a slow Saturday stroll through the park.

High noon comes radiantly through the holes in a canopy of trees.
Rays of light pierce the air like bullets ripping through the barrel of a
shotgun;
The birds are awake now.
I wonder if I sound as beautiful to them as they to me.

She would know, but she’s inescapably beautiful picking her daisies.
I’ll let her be.

Hours pass away just as my ancestors did, slow and peacefully,
Until I find myself on a bus back to Heathrow.
Late, but not alone.
Stretched out on the seat, the bus begins to moan.
The windows close in around and time stands still
As if the guards at Buckingham are being changed.

Breathtaking

I’ve spent too many restless days longing for the hot
Virginia air to bind me to a stroll through the daisies of London.

6/21/08