Primrose.

The lights on the hill lit the dreams of us that strolled through,

the lights reminded us those dreams could come true,

unwavering in stance, unimpressed by the weather

the lights on the hill in their hundreds not few.

Observing all with a gentle curiosity, 

at patrons who quibbled on rates and foreign policy, 

in their language of lights, across the hill and in sight,

the lights on the hill could tell us something about you.

A dainty glimmer in the air over the city 

London, a cauldron filled with indecisive pity.

they guide the path like some insightful stars

the lights on the hill separating the green and the blue.

The sun enlists as night renovates to day 

the lights switch off with their voice kept at bay

ready for their next show, some hours till their next glow

the lights on the hill with a wonderful view.

DV