Robert Broadbent Poet Rhyme

Memory Lane

Memory Lane

The old dirt track, where, as kids, we’d roam,
Now brambled weeds, so overgrown,
No more gangs playing a noisy game,
Just another memory lane.

The streets, the houses, the corner shop,
Pavements covered in chalked hopscotch,
The field of adventure, where a stream once flowed,
All replaced by the busy road.

The old back yard, the cobbled street,
Secret dens, where we kids would meet
To run around have fun and play,
In the long-lost past before the motorway.

The old dirt track has now long gone,
As have the streets where we all came from,
The road through life never stays the same,
It changes, slowly, into memory lane.

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Shirley Hawkins January 22, 2020 at 5:31 PM Thank God for these lovely memories, my husband and I go there often. Lucky to have been born at a time when people were more important than possessions. I really enjoyed your poem Thank you...Shirley