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So long ago

In those dark wintry nights of London,
When streets were thronged by merry men,
Stretching from Wimbledon to Marylebone, 
The lights that shone upon them.
Crowd pulling music filled the sky,
Neon lights inside weeny bars,
As bluesy jazz and uncorked rye,
Give way to zippy passerbye.

 The city where the sky was tall,
Streets wide and buildings small,
As greenery overlapped into the sun,
The place we call England was so much fun.
My restaurant lay in one corner, 
With everyone busy except I,
Meeting me with warm embrace,
My guitar greeted them eye to eye.

 I could do whatever go whenever,
My treehouse inside at night,
That extended far beyond the earth,
Building dreams with a wish and a sight.
I met the lovely girl,
A queen from a faraway land,
From Persia to England she hopped,
In a jiff holding just my hand.

 That place is no longer mine,
Never in vision and rare in mind,
But the echo in my pulse,
Draws me nearer to home everytime,
Sheltering memories in my bleeding heart,
Of blood and flesh I can't find,
As blood trickles down every street,
The voice of the immortal has got its fate to meet.

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