It is because of you that I walk past
the humming glass and the tower cranes
through this island, this sanctuary
this garden, shadowed by London planes.
The small brick church is industrial
it speaks of utility not beauty
you would have liked the flowers
you would have named them for me.
I seek the humility of repetition
in this world of beeswax and prayer
time out, memory, reflection.
Wax and pollen decorate the air
A tiny candle flickers your memory.
It is because of you that I am here.
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