A poem I wrote around April 2006. Still a favorite of mine.
A bit of background: this was written while I was laying in bed awake, around 4 AM. I heard very few sounds except for the sound of a lone airliner flying overhead, and it reminded me of how, on similar mornings, I'd also lay awake in a bed 6,000 miles away in London listening to the jets flying into Heathrow. The poem's title, LHR, refers to the international airport abbreviation for Heathrow airport.
Those mornings, often restless, I'd go out and wander around Richmond Park at sunrise, among the deer, with the high steeple of St. Matthias' Church in the far distance.
I was reflecting in this poem both on what I'd lost by coming home from London, and what I'd gained.
Music is the Humming Chorus from Madame Butterfly by Giacomo Puccini.
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