Dear London,
Your name tosses adventure over my tongue
Playing the “L” and the “N’s” and the “D”
On the roof of my mouth and my teeth
Like the wild notes emanating from a flute
Dancing in my mouth, in the air
Bouncing with intriguing mischief
And now I respond and come to you
To see if your name is honest
And I find that you behold truths
Of art, fortune and inspiration
City that forever buzzes with activity
Inviting shops selling novels, pens, notebooks
Native English on the cobblestone streets
Playing or singing for coins of copper
Castles that date back to ancient ages
Each with its own unique and jaw-dropping style
Stories in infinite numbers
Floating with the wind
Clinging to any passerby who will listen
And to my American ears
Your people do not talk, they sing
That melodic accent that feeds delicately into my ears
I can never hear enough, and I drink it in
Huge gulps, always wanting more
My thirst for you is quenched only by living here
And I know I cannot stay forever
Yet I promise I will be back
And until we meet again, London, my friend
I will give you a gift, handcrafted by me
The best gift I could give you
I give you my writing in pen and ink