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Smoke blew from the chimneys
in the place where I was born
streets were laid with cobbles
workers summoned by a horn.
Shops sold all and sundry
and the keepers name was Ted
I often bought my sweets there
with pennies gleaned from lead.
Our neighbor wore an apron
with rollers on her head
I could hear her climb her creaking stairs
when she went up to bed.
Mice lived in the skirting
and they nibbled at the cheese
with windows old and rotted
they let in such a breeze.
Memories of my old home
and the good times that we shared
but the houses were demolished
and new-builds built instead.
Copyright ©
Julie Achilles
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