Not in Amiens, off the car ferry,
Outskirted, clutching a sketchy youth hostel map;
Not in Cambridge, ambling a lane, very
Gobsmacked to be jumped by a mad-eyed chap;
Not in New York, along a street lined with faces
Saying: “You do know you’re in Harlem, yes?”
Not in Giza, at a gallop in rocky places,
My stirrup-stuck shoe threatening a bloody mess.
Four occasions I was oddly unafraid,
Cossetted by tiredness, surprise, folly and buzz.
Guarded now by the castle I have made,
Distant dangers blur into background fuzz.
A privileged London life could hardly be finer:
Essentially, my greatest fear is D sharp minor.
Outskirted, clutching a sketchy youth hostel map;
Not in Cambridge, ambling a lane, very
Gobsmacked to be jumped by a mad-eyed chap;
Not in New York, along a street lined with faces
Saying: “You do know you’re in Harlem, yes?”
Not in Giza, at a gallop in rocky places,
My stirrup-stuck shoe threatening a bloody mess.
Four occasions I was oddly unafraid,
Cossetted by tiredness, surprise, folly and buzz.
Guarded now by the castle I have made,
Distant dangers blur into background fuzz.
A privileged London life could hardly be finer:
Essentially, my greatest fear is D sharp minor.
(12.4.26) v 1.0
