Marketplace

This space is like a ghost town

Trestle tables row on row

Echoing with the hustle bustle

Vendors cries of long ago

I hold my mother’s hand

And listen to them shout

‘apples sixpence a pound

Come on get your money out!’

I went back there when I was home

All that was left were wooden frames

And rotting boards of each seller’s plot

The faint le...

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You Could Own An Upright Piano

You could own an upright piano

The newspaper advert said

And although I can’t play one

The words got messing with my head

We had one when I was a young boy

It stood in the front room, unused

Because no one in our house could play it

So it left all our visitors bemused

Well – actually – I could play ‘Chopsticks’

And my gran...

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