Aldgate

There is a park in Aldgate, a small one,
The kind you forget. This is where we met
In the rain, in April, in days gone by.
Everything we had we found in that park.

The oath we took then, to ourselves, to life
Was never a spoken one, intricate
As it was, as it became. I'm sorry.
I wish things had turned out differently.

Our demise too was to find it's roots then,
In that park, in the greedy logic spun
Of desire. We should have known better.
Today, all we have left is a story.

There are lost houses up in North London,
And we both lived there, too busy to care.
For a time, you know, we achieved something:
We build a new world for all to witness.

Posted on 12th October 2014