A subtle return to a foreign land,
Skin slightly more weathered, mature with stories of the endless summer
Summer though, is coming to an end in London.
Grey patched skies and cool morning breeze paint autumn into the picture
Seasons roll into place, yet I stand the same across changes.
A deep tiredness weigh down the wandering body, a soft excitement is intertwined, a sense of stable believing keeps the pendulum from swaying.
Ask if I'm ready, and I'll tell you the truth that I don't recognise the signs until it's too late. Nor could I bother with process when a plan does not require one.
Fight long, fight hard. That's enough.
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