High Street of old
A long time ago
Where bulls breathed mist dropped dung
And horses trotted homeward
Books in a bag, coffee in hand, this new library could be the promised land with books for all to read and literacy on tap. Shame it’s being scrapped now we need it the most.
The sun is setting on another day perchance to be god’s toy or another’s lay or an economic unit in pay. The sky could collapse I am sure.
If I could change anything in my life my work my debts and say I am happy today I know that it won’t change anything ’bout the rot though.
Now, what is this above the cornfield yellow and bright and shining like the sun. ‘Tis my Dad with a buttered currant bun and some ale for his son.
The high street of old has gone and a new one has begun. E-shops selling Aesop’s fables and brer rabbit have gone digital-again selling fun on your phone is tactic number one followed by butchers organic selling digital pork chops 1010101.
Where is the fun? Who will be number one next week? Holidays, hotel rooms and the promised bargain of a lifetime only 499.50 if you get there quickly or take artistic therapy by painting whatever you choose in your life whenever wherever. I never knew laptop could make you so happy and clever.
So I eat my buttered currant bun drink tea and ale every now and then look up and ask am I happy number one?
Andrew Watkins Nov ’17
Material things get the better of us 