Bermondsey, you see, is like you, is like me, 

It falls it rises

A story within a story, 

It’s docks whisper loudly

That we’re allowed to be free

And the sometimes sunrise

Delivered up Thames

From all of the seas.

The days allegory

Found in dawns yawning glory, 

Memonto Mori,

A moment to remember

The embers of November,

It’s life,

our lives

and that light, 

before the dusk in us ebbs

and meets our ends in the East,

from the East in our end,

“I know I’ll miss you,

I know you’ll miss me,

my beautiful friend.”

Saffron surprises,

How to surmise these,

Worlds realised.

Same guy in different guises, 

Like David Bowie.

Red shoes rearranged led him to see,

Of all his phases and faces in the spaces he’s free’d.

When thrown the question,

What’s your greatest discovery?

He replied, `The Morning” 

Worth all the yawning.

When the feathered iridescence

Gather the choir of the trees 

Scaling melodies 

Sending memories 

From the future 

Of our funeral pyres

And their beautiful screams

Your time is yours but not to keep

As the larks sing in ascension

Hand them your soul

And they’ll lend you their wings

Strife for a moment is put on suspension

For whatever it brings

Life, today, you’ve got my attention.