Lionhearted

Oh England, my lionheart. I don't want to go.

 

“Lionhearted”

 

I was happy, once, in England,

For upon my arrival there I sensed

A vague connexion, the pull of life

Seeping through the ground,

Through history to touch my soul.

I stood above the Thames, aorta of London,

Adrift across the centuries to find myself.

We lived Chaucer in Canterbury –

Me, Pam and a punk rock dog named Chaos –

Pilgrims all, pilgrims three escaping from

The walls of our own existences.

I watched the countryside from the train,

London to York to Cambridge,

And cried, drunk, on the river Cam

On New Year’s Eve in my

Sparkling purple Doc Martens,

Tears of contentment, of sorrow,

Of not wanting to leave and return

To the world I’d left behind me.

So as I boarded the plane I turned,

Memorized, left a piece of myself –

A beacon awaiting my return.

Reviews

[suediv07]

Your home is sometimes a prison. Traveling sets you free, 'cause you touch new dimensions. Monuments make you shed tears 'cause you realize that you're the last ring of a chain which starts from a dark past, parts of which last into your inner soul. Why should you come back to a fictional reality now that you've you discovered the truth about yourself?

[Wildfleour]

I felt exactly the same way about England, especially Oxford. I still await my return there.......hopefully it will be sooner than later!

[Adrian K. Smith]

One cannot deny one's past, and one's past had to take place somewhere. We leave little pieces of ourselves everywhere we go, everywhere we have been. When we think of homes past, sometimes we return there - to the memories, each marked by that little beacon of ourself we left there.

[Mike; The Lone Maverick]

This makes me want to go to England