The Changing Breeze

 

Before the demolition

Turned my old Street

Into rubble

I went to steal some memories

Of our laughter & our struggle

 

I went to hopscotch down

The chalk lines of the past

Play tag with the echoes

Of ones who didn't last

 

Time had aged the street

Like a persons face too old

It wore the strain of many toils

From the ending of 'black gold'

 

I walked the shadows & the cracks

Where as a boy I'd dwell

Found hidey-holes of dim blushed light

Where I kissed, but didn't tell

 

Mr Wolf was down the lane

And I asked him of the time

He said, "Time for dinner, of course!"

So, I made a quick beeline 

 

For my old house down the street

With the flaking paint blue door

But, suddenly, it seemed to heal

And the blue paint flaked no-more

 

The door itself creaked ajar

And the waft of baking pies

Lit my soul a rosy glow

Bringing tears unto my eyes

 

Inside, my Father's singing

And three chorded guitar

Strummed gently upon memories

Long lost, like distant stars

 

I could hear Mother's laughter,

My Brother's cocky charm,

My Sister calling him some form

Of animal from a farm

 

Wonderful walls of woodchip

Shed magnolia skin

And the faint aroma of Woodbines

Meant that Granda had been in

 

Then, inside the living room

The fire flickered gold

And underneath its grate

Jacket taties in its hold

 

The smells

The sounds

The memories

Brought some tears

But mostly smiles

Drifting out from every crevice

Across the time-filled miles

 

It groaned as I was leaving

And tugged at my heart's beat

Outside, stood long lost faces

Raising a glass to our street

 

I filled my glass with memories

And drank it down with ease

And this place of our childhood

Blew away on a changing breeze

 

 

familyhomeMemories

◄ Growing Pains

The Day The Seeds Fell ►

Comments

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Stephen Atkinson

Thu 5th Aug 2021 18:12

John, I'm flattered you think it worthy! And your dulcet tones would be a great addition to it 😉
And thanks for the additional likes Rudyard & Pete 🌈

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John Coopey

Wed 4th Aug 2021 00:23

I wish I'd written this, Stephen.
What the hell! I'll tell folks I did.

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Stephen Atkinson

Tue 3rd Aug 2021 13:34

M.C. I love that quote 😄. And thanks for taking the time to read & comment

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M.C. Newberry

Mon 2nd Aug 2021 14:37

I think it was Frank Norman who coined the phrase "Nostalgia
ain't what it used to be."
But, on this evidence, I'd say: It IS...it IS!!
A delightful wander that takes us down "Quality Street"!

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Stephen Atkinson

Mon 2nd Aug 2021 09:25

Thanks to Steve, Stephen G, and Greg for the lovely comments. Hope you're all well.
And thanks, Julie, nice to see your still posting & hope you're enjoying your travels. This is the only thing I've wrote since I last posted! So, could be just a fleeting visit. But thanks for your continued support.
And thanks for the Likes, Jordyn, Aisha & Holden, appreciated as always & hope you're also well! 🌷🌈

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Stephen Gospage

Sun 1st Aug 2021 21:29

Lovely, evocative poem. The last verse really caps it.

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Steve Higgins

Sun 1st Aug 2021 13:52

Nothing stays the same. Nice work.

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julie callaghan

Sun 1st Aug 2021 12:08

Wonderful and worth the wait. I have missed reading your work. I hope all is good with you and there many more writes to come. Thank you

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Greg Freeman

Sun 1st Aug 2021 11:38

Terrific work, Stephen. Poignant and moving.

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