The bins of Old London are fattened and gorged
Gulping down gadgets and cracked plastic toys,
Gagging on curry, tofu and toast,
Somebody’s rubbish and somebody’s joy,
Grandpa’s teeth and mothers’ pink socks,
All bunged in the bins of old London.

But foxes feed here, and squirrels swing by,
So do the homeless and thrifty.
What is worthless to you
Is worth more than jewels
To the hungry and poor of Old London.

As I roast and I toast
I’m most proud to be host
To those, who make me glow
As they eat and warm up their toes

Be it a friend or a foe
As I glow and I show
My display I can certainly say
Soon, is end of my days

Although right now I thrive
They won’t keep me alive
They’ll pack up and go back inside
And leave me to shrink as I die

And yet with sparks that I spit
I don’t scorn those who sit
I’m still pleased that I’ve lived
I say thank you to them: I’ve been lit

In my head, it rings soundly,
Playing on and on, growing, gaining flesh,
I hear it calls, jingling its bells loudly,
Time drives, struggling, fondling through intricate stench,
Calling slowly, to appear on the hands of now,
When it comes, how will we do?

Expanse of green acres draped
like a petticoat when ye arrive
birds of a feather flock together
and bees gather collect nectar,
pollen, and water to bolster their hive
verdant vista sports
spot for wildlife to thrive
such as; whitetail deer, red fox,
Easter bunnies, garter snakes.