Sitting by the Thames listening to Amos Lee

It's the soft motion
of breaking tides
against pillars tucked
beneath bridges
too majestic for
most to walk on.
The birds waiting
intently for some
tourist kid to drop
his Cadbury bar so
they can retreat to
feast at the waters edge.
It's my wet jeans as
they rub the inside of
my legs raw.
The rain that just
won't stop in the city
that just won't
burn forever.
It's hearing
"I'm Not Myself" and
knowing that he's
singing directly from
a studio into
my heart.