When you get there
I wonder, will it be sunny
Or cloudy?
Will the streets breathe mist
The way I've always heard they do?
When you get there,
Will that strange light kiss your face
As tenderly as the sun does here?
It better love you right, London air.
When you get there
I wonder
Will there ever be a moment or two
As you wander down unfamiliar roads and lanes,
When you can feel me missing you?
I think all cities, all across the world,
Have some sort of connection,
Like a spiderweb of light
Netted over a cerulean marble.
I hope London will love you
Like I know my city loves you
(because I do and we love alike, New York and I)
Maybe I'll try my hand at a transmission overseas,
Like a telegram
But with feelings.
Maybe I'll go to my city
When you get to London- the very day-
And stand beneath the clock tower down at Astor Place
(where I first saw the city sky)
And wonder, like my five year old self did, if it looks anything at all
Like Big Ben.
Maybe I'll stand there and say hello to you,
As if my city will send a whisper
Halfway around the world
On the wind
To yours.
And if I do that
Who knows-
Maybe it really will
Get there.