London, a silhouette of old and new buildings, <br />some, still with winding staircases, <br />dark dismal cellars and dusty attics. <br />Sky scrapers, office blocks, <br />chic cottages and town houses <br />in, tiny, back street lanes <br />where I seldom wander <br /> <br />The London Eye revolves in the sky line, <br />spying on us, ogling the City, <br />that old river Thames. <br />See its river boats, old ships, <br />odd ships and the Houses of Parliament, <br />offices, where we, the peasants <br />may only look through glass. <br /> <br />As a child I truly believed <br />that one day, I'd go into every building, <br />curiosity my forte, but of course, <br />there are too many, mostly private, <br />barred from my prying eyes, <br />except for some Castles, the Palace, <br />the Tower and its dungeons. <br /> <br />These are the buildings of London, <br />with its art galleries, theatres, <br />churches and museums. <br />No doubt some are haunted, <br />their ghosts still walking <br />within their walls, <br />at dusk, when shadows fall.<br /><br />Ruth Walters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/london-20/
