There is a rhythm and rhyme
when the river flows,
the Eye roves
and there is music -
because you are here.
The bridges ask us to cross,
the boats say linger,
there is a today unraveling
riding on a hundred yesterdays.
We've walked long miles
through shades and shadows,
inside an Indian summer,
beside sunlight which hustles.
And time goes by so slow, so slow,
if you walk at a pace
which is ours, ours,
in a stranger-land strangely familiar,
a place which today we claim as ours.
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