A Closed Door.

I was keen to be a part of things when young
like when I dragged a tinker to our door,
shrieking " he'll mend holes in your pans, Mum! Mum!"
then soon found, we were viewed as strange and, poor...

Or the guy hawking things to thread needles
and bribing kids with sweets and gay balloons,
" Quick, you want ribbons, go tell your peoples
the Sewing-Man's here and you'll have those, soon..."

There's not much for the likes of me these days
no rag and bone folk ringing big brass bells,
with us begging for rides on creaking Drays
but hear in my mind, the shrill childish yells,

Of my playmates, children, who went before
Such a lot now, behind that dark closed door...