deepundergroundpoetry.com

Travels in The Past

Here? Fields we rambled, played and picnicked on  
adjacent, there, the forcing rhubarb sheds,  
those black tar-papered sheds, those also gone,  
ground under concrete and forever dead.  
   
Here, can you imagine it, hedgerows grew,  
flourished even beside old dry-stone walls,  
beaten pathways on hard packed earth these flew  
between farmers fields where green crops grew tall.  
   
Nothing remains but imaged memories  
and these, alas, graved on my simple mind,  
all those crops, trees and country greenery  
lost to the progress of the human kind.  
   
Drive on this superhighway under which  
Lie farms, fields, picnic spots and cricket pitch.
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