air perfectly still, the sky never so clear
the moon, steady, nitid eye in the centre of the scene
blue spills across the south bank, infecting concrete and trees with indigo shine
the city studs, erect, glitter powerful in the distance
milky gray, st paul dome ready for take-off from surrounding mist
big ben echoes the moon, cuadruple-time, shadow delineated against the house of power
planes criss-cross the nearly perfect black sky, fireflies fleeting round the corner of your eye
a blood red wheel, slowly circles, showing the way home
the moon keeps glaring from its prime position
and alone, to the west, a small cloud reminds you it's borrowed time
time for london to be beautiful, tonight
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