Wednesday, 9 May 2012


The clock bell tower looms like thunder
Every ready for escape.
Blank eyes in faces on the wander -
Hair fashioned in a pudding shape.
The faded blooms on cotton dresses
Hide memories of young girls' dreams
That somehow came to wrong fruition
Long ago, or so it seems.

Down the echoed halls I trembled
Passing doors with clanging keys
Tiptoe up to stare through windows
Catch a glimpse of tops of trees.
Walls are painted chocolate fudge-cake
Which cover up the dirty marks
From where the sad ones' hands do linger
All the way from ward to park.

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