I’ve met my Waterloo
With its thick walls
And roaring fire
And only the careful drivers get through
Because the cars are parked
Pointing in both directions
On both sides of the narrow street.
My sugarless tea with British water
And milk from British cows
Tastes sweet
Gazing from my bed at the cloud filled sky.
In a bit I’ll wander to the corner shop
To get my favourite biscuits
As well as groceries from less important food groups
This Waterloo is a symbol Of 50 years of friendship
Which did suffer a crushing Napoleonic defeat
When I took my broken heart and my toys away when I was just fifteen.
The reason: I could not share my tantrum or my tears
I couldn’t stand to be around her
Wanting her to be my lover not my friend.
I’m grateful that she survived me
And I survived me
But many years were lost.
She has wrapped her arms around me in every way she could
And here I am sipping tea wrapped in these thick walls
Hers and now my London home.