London it is said, is the right place to be,
Everything costs a fortune and few things come free.
Old and new stand side by side,
Walkways are narrow, but some are long and wide.
Tag: poet
MY ANGEL CHILD, Poetry by Cleo Patra
Touching my stomach with trembling butterfly fingers
Knowing I’d never feel you growing in me
Earthquake tremors ripped my tortured heart to pieces
My eyes swam in my blue-stormy tears
WILDsound Festival 