LOST IN THE GARDEN
Old property, soot deposited attics,
dusty pavemants,
huge 'H' antennas
teetering atop crooked roofs -
and though we ourselves owned
a posh new indoor one,
outdoor 'cupboards' for WCs.
How strange that these parts
of our most crusty 'infrastructure'
should be so warmly brought
forward from our memory banks!
There even exists a web site
full of collected memorabilia
from living in Friern Barnet -
mostly from the late fifties -
and of course, fewer and fewer
of us former residents are
still on this 'mortal coil'
to view as each year passes.
Where I lived, the house,
the avenue; the living dust
containing my childhood DNA,
has been bulldozed complete
away from where newer
innocent children carelessly play.
My wishes and dreams spent
into open air, reamain there
somehow supported amid the soil.
I wonder what of my life
will be seived in future
years by eager, anticipating
archeologists? A toy?
A blazer button maybe -
the one I lost in the garden?
© Griffonner 2023
Poetry by Griffonner
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Written on 2023-09-30 at 10:30
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