Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing


International icon,

you learned to fly, before your time,

missed and mourned,

your sweet smile, savoured,

seen in the rising sunlight,

in the eyes of your Sons.

Reborn at St Paul’s,

you were an angel, on earth,

as all women,

you were worn out,

bound to be everything to everyone,

and like all woman,

you wore a smile,

that same, sweet smile,

as you lit up every Lane your lonely heart landed in.

Princess of a perfect landscape,

longing to live a real life,

to realise the beauty of the valleys and vales,

by staring into them,

as the sunset hits,

and the night is quiet and soft.

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