Today I do roam where Orwell has roamed
I sit upon a bench he did use
Perhaps with a breath
And a length of my hair
I shall hope to hear what he says
For then, in the end
With the hopes of my wind
I could find myself content
In his shoes
But had I not found
The peace he once did feel
Then I too would fall in a heap
So pretend for a while
As I am at this hour
That I sit in a place
He once sat