Timed, confusing escalators at Victoria,
Panicky bomb calls deactivate inertia
Double deckers, darker red, mobbed,
They wait elegant, tall, headless and lanky.

Friendly Asian woman with angelic smile,
Unsaid home-tale now so saxon stale.
Cautions of the chill, the riskv suburb,
Unsure sterling beyond the E.U. curb.

Exchange houses are all summer tense,
Sales at Oxford Street make bargain sense.
‘To Let’ boards are rusty all over,
Charington’s crossed books have sale cover.
Picadilly readings are at discount,
Buckingham numbers are hard to count
German tourists are currency hurt.
Churchill must be imperially saddened
Devalued Downing’s trade-recessed woes,
Westminister is huddled with Greco-Roman fears
Bankers laugh little at London bridge,
But lonely hearts have a happy trudge.

They charge entry at St.Paul’s
God’s brigade call for tolls
Cannot blame – Pound has unstitched falls
Threadneedle Street is yet old England.
The anaemic Professor had forewarned
Had read aloud that old ladies here are independent
Keynes’ long run is dead by now
Fish n chips are low on stove
Forex dealers still make curry bets
As they hurry with East Indian treats
The bed and ‘fast Kensington hotelier,
Is from Karachi or somewhere there
Reminiscing a fond someone,
People of ’47, none had won.
London Hyde is slowly changing spots,
E.U. hype awaits Washington reports.


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