I'll wait under the maple trees, in the half shadows, the trees' bare branches a skeleton protecting me. I'll watch as the world goes by just past me, hoping to catch the eye of someone who recognises my forlorn look. I'll sit upon the ancient bricks, where many a lonely soul has sat before, their sighs reaching to the winter sky, pleading for help. To theirs, I'll add my own ghost, for I may just fade away there, having waited for far too long.
But perhaps the answer is not to wait at all, but to wander. If I traversed the banks of the great flowing river, among the artists and musicians all, perhaps I would find one who is as lost and alone as myself. Then we might find that we each have the piece of the other which we've cherished for so very long, hoping to return to its rightful owner.
We'll sit and admire the flickering lights on the Thames, passing hour by hour slowly, while the time flies by for those immersed in frivolity. We'll talk of dreams and hopes, the past and the future, the stars and the dust; and how we two might fit into the greater scheme of things, with our own personal niche in the world. We shall revel in quiet contentment in our private section of the city, beneath the darkened sky, hidden from the prying eyes of light.
The night will flicker and fade eventually, yet the memory will still remain imprinted into grass where we sat, just out of the circle of the lamplight. There shall be many a time where we walk past that very spot, and each and every time, the memory will be brought to the forefront of our consciousness, so that we might relive the night once again.
Yes, I'm certain, I'll lose my heart to London, and to one of those who reside among its ornately carved architecture. Perhaps one day I'll arrive there, and perhaps, I'll find the one who unknowingly has my heart. Or else the city might burn in the flames which were never ignited by an all consuming passion which never existed.