It all started with a London Cake

And a bench in a medieval town

I was waiting for a bus

When I was approached

By a most beautiful dove

Who had the saddest eyes

That I had ever seen

I enquired of her sadness

And she looked at the sky

Where are the other birds today

I did not answer the question

As I knew of no answer

But offered my longest finger

As a temporary perch

We shared my city cake in silence

Until she asked my name

Francis my name is Francis

I said in little more than a whisper

And with that the dream dove flew

Into the deep declining evening sky