It Matters To Charles
The Countryside is changing fast,
with every day it sheds the past,
with nothing new, that seems to last.
So does it really matter.
The village structure, solid, sound,
the pub, the Church, the Cricket ground,
the Manor, where the squire was found.
Back then it seemed to matter.
But now they've gone. The people new
no longer share a Sunday pew,
instead they sit and telly view
and say it doesn't matter.
They wash the car, they mow the lawn,
but never see a new lamb born;
nor glimpse the peeping sun at dawn.
They think it doesn't matter
I mourn the passing of those days,
the peace and quiet, the simple ways
with unreserved old fashioned praise.
And, yes! To me, they matter.
~
For Sidney ~ LeeAnn's 'All About You' Contest.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
