Such a teasing smile, young and mature
Knowingly gleaming and so stupidly sure.
Simple eyes are curious, questioning
Every intention, it is unsettling.
A deceiving laugh that sings close to home
Piercing every heart string and then it roams.
Thin lips move slow and intentionally
Claiming truth and love unconditionally.
A rebel with every cause
A survivor breaking unjust law
His pain is my complete inheritance
How could I ever show such arrogance?
London is a honeymoon
She is my summer love.
— a charming smile, an adventurous rhythm
She is a Shakespearean play,
a sophisticated piece of art,
an innocuous tease,
a passionate protester.
She is a burning summer night.
Ravaging the city,
sweating, swaying and screaming to its undying pulse.
Bradford is a taste of the rest of the world
She is her immigrants.
— a Gurdwara of all people.
An unwithering patience for our ignorance.
Bradford is her warmth
— a sanctuary from corruption.
where police aren’t feared and
Catholics love Muslims
and Muslims love Hindus
and Hindus love Sikhs.
Bradford is peace.
Worcester is a stranger.
Brighter than Southport
but paler than Bradford.
She is shallowness
seeped in her tasteless tea.
Yet, it is with her
where the dread of the States sets in.
The future clouds over Worcester
Like a brewing storm on the brink of destruction.
But the Sun grounds me
keeps me safe.