MOVING ON

 MOVING ON

By Peter Woodgate 

Glad we were

To leave behind

Those dingy rooms,

The peeling paint

And musty smells.

 

The old, cracked mirror

On the wall,

A picture of the king

And another that was made

From cockle shells.

 

The stairs,

That echoed daily,

With the thunder of our feet,

Would fall silent

With perhaps a creak or two.

 

And the mice,

Unwanted company,

Would be free to roam the rooms,

Undisturbed

And admiring the view.

 

Our brand new flat of concrete,

Had everything,

Three bedrooms and a bath

And balconies, with views

Out front and back.

 

Electric lights,

It smelt pristine,

Fresh painted walls,

Nice shiny floors,

Oh, what then did it lack?

 

Alas;

Our spirits lingered

Where bygone friends

Trod one by one,

Apprehension in that promised land

For we were moving on.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate