There's No Place Like London

My London
Haven't the heavens hurled enough at us?
Three minutes later and we're still here,
Waiting for the Northern line!
Delayed trains, texting teens, in-cutting commuters
And tourists pointing at the pidgeons!
But we’ll push on through, maybe trip a few.

Central, St. Paul’s, coffee, Bank, Bridge.
Time for a rest? Ostrich and apple at Borough Market?
No. Train’s here. Not another for six minutes!
Papers litter Victoria’s seats, too much to read,
Let’s discard. Feeling healthy, shall we jump on Boris’
Bikes? They’re not the colour of the City.

With all the age and wisdom that my City holds,
Does She watch us from on high,
Whisper in the winds, protect us from the colds?
Does She lie below the Earth, watch as we go by?
As Emma says that we’ll be late, does Her heart despair,
Or does She pull us to Her breast, and gently clutch us there?

The prize for today's title quiz will be my worst Christmas Present, so if you like coal...