The Streets of Willesden Green

 I walk along this solitary street

And, on each day, I look at these silent buildings differently

Sometimes feeling an unexplainable sense of remorse,

Sometimes pain and, at some rare instances,

A slight tinge of hope

These buildings have seen it all -

My tears, joys, epiphanies,

And, sometimes, cries of joy drift across its stillness

And become the melodies of melancholy of my soul

These seem like buildings but they are ever so more

The cacophonies of my heart, the golden wrinkles of my soul.

I see too wilderness in them sometimes

Projecting their untamed forests deep within

In the ephemeral winter winds

Right now—I look at these streets and back at myself

And I feel a sense of completeness—

The cracks, scars, gaps, and everything else...