The blown out shell of the bus

on route past Euston Station

is quiet and still now, destroyed a second

time to wipe out the memories of the act of barbarism

that took life, that took lives

in the space of a single moment in time

and the London streets fell victim one by one.

 

The television screens, the minds of the ordinary

London folk were still reflecting on what

it meant to have the world watching

their city five years later,

the beauty of togetherness, of games played;