Dear London,


You are the love of my life.

You are the buzz in my bones, after a day of walking your pristine pavements.

You are the vibrations under my feet when the tube passes beneath me.

You are the roar in my ears with your never ending noise.

You are the lights in my eyes with your billboards and nightlife.

You are the taste on my tongue when I mention your name.

You are the place of new beginnings.

You are the home I arrived into.

You are the land of the dreamers.

You are the breeder of success.

You are the epitome of beautiful.

You are the admittance of chaos.

You are the forever changing landscape.

You never bore me.

You always entice me.

I am lucky to know you.

I am grateful to be a part of you.

You were my promised land through terrible times.

You are the love of my life, that I didn’t even know I was missing.

I whole heartedly, with certainty, belong to you.

Yours, drunkenly,

Hannah x

(I’m glad that the photo edit is good because I am clearly terrible at poetry. I shall allow this to be published because it amuses me. I blame London fumes for poisoning my brain. Check in next time, kids, for more utter rubbish. Friday’s post is a look into my desk space, not another literary recital, I promise).


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