The rusted swings hang chained up, still,
The playground gleams with broken glass
A wilderness of weeds- the path
Where once I walked to go to school.
Now ‘hoodies’ rank like hooded monks
Loiter swigging Buckfast wine
Graduates from ASBO school
Have taken over our domain.
We played there many years ago
In Markies quilted anoraks
In my mind, the memory plays,
Youngsters then with time to kill.
We planted saplings in that year
Helped council workers dig
Our photos in the local rag
Young and green like nascent leaves.
Where my brother’s head was split
In hours of carefree summer days
And I was knocked down by a car
The driver never gave his name.
The Eclectic Audio Lab 