Tony Bush Poet Verse

Buttered Toast and Trains

His dreams of buttered toast and trains became
  Beleaguered by town-planners and architectural sharks
Who erected on his green and pleasant visions
  The blight of sunless tower blocks and concrete parks.
Once bicycles and potting sheds held blissful sway
  In country lanes and gardens swarmed with bloom,
Replaced by streams of motorised invaders,
  In place of lawns - hot tubs and decking loom.

His chronicles of defiance ring like warning bells from
  Small quaint churches in his rhyming pages,
Across the village greens and through the cobbled streets
  Down the passages of post colonial ages.
The words of such gentility and slowly dying culture,
  Sandwiches of cucumber and egg and cress for tea,
Earl Grey poured from china pots, sugar lumps in silver bowls,
  Croquet hoops and endless sun and sweet austerity.

That world, though semi-fabled, seems ever more unreal,
  And images he drew upon are all that now remains,
To teach us of a man who lived and then outlived his time
  With his marvelled dreams of buttered toast and trains.

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