Originally published: 7th August 2020
Image by gR
This poem was placed 1st in the "Standard 1212" contest sponsored by Brian Strand (Judged 25th May 2023)
As featured in The Poetry Soup Anthology "PS: It's Poetry"
when industry stood on this soil with chimneys that spewed sweat and toil the furnace fires relied on mines through arteries of railway lines. now looking back to charcoal skies through rosy mists of childhood eyes a line of trucks each filled with rocks crawled slowly past a signal box. the building formed a silhouette that framed a scene I wont forget: the dying of that worldly light was captured there in black and white. I'm standing now where true art stood: in a 'reinvented' neighbourhood where sleepers sleep beneath the grass where once those engines used to pass.
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