Now

Right now I want to read poetry and remember the beautiful words I ingested in London. I miss them. Come back Mr. Blake. Return fair Wordsworth. Come Eliot, Milton and Donne, Keats, Clare and Herbert. Hark one and all! I wish they were all in my pocket, so I could open it just a peak when I was feeling a little homesick, and they would recite fond words to enlighten and illuminate my step. Everyone needs to carry a little sunshine in their pocket.