Once Upon A Time

Pop wagons
rattling and clinking
with their gaudy shades
of potions slopping.

Coal lorries
groaning up the hill
breathing their dragons breath
of carbon dust.

The aged magik
of a ramshackle
cobblers hut
and the clanging of the last.

The shout of
“Rag and Bone”
echoing down
a Monday morning.

Tobacconist 
selling chocolate cigars
to little mimics
of their wheezing fathers.

Chemist shops
smelling of cinnamon sticks,
the sticky fingers
of humbug traces.

Leatherette booths,
formica tables
awash with the remnants
of strawberry milkshakes.

Jukebox glows
in primary coloured neon,
spinning the black
rock and roll currency.

Peeling the skins
from brutal onions
to subsidise
pocket money indulgences.

Standing in a queue
with a dog eared list
of fruit and vegetable
unseasonal wishes.

A policeman passes
with a sideways glance
that makes the innocent
feel guilty.

Mustard streetlights
casting shadows
in the bronchial fog
of November nights.

Watching the TV
fade to black,
waiting for
the white spot.

In a city,
In a time
before
yesterday.