Treasure Island

Angela Wybrow

(Salisbury, Wilts, UK)


A door slams:
An echo fills the air –
This once busy sales floor
Is now completely bare.

For Dad and I, a visit to Woolworths
On a Saturday morning was a must –
But now this first floor sales space
Is empty and full of dust.

I remember when it was full
Of children’s laughter and excited chat,
But sadly there came a time
When it kissed goodbye to all of that.

I remember a time
When girls and boys
Would rush upstairs
To purchase new toys.

But as I walk through
This spacious room,
All I’m surrounded by
Is silence and gloom.

To me, it seems sad
To see the place this way –
In a state of disrepair
And slow but sure decay.

As a customer at Woolworths,
I saw this space bathed in light,
But now, as an employee of their successor,
I just see a sad and sorry sight.

The red and cream coloured flooring
Is the one thing that’s still in place,
But with walls stripped back to bare brick,
This space now wears a different face.

On the ground floor,
There’s now a bargain store,
But the first floor sales space
Was not required anymore.

Its very life has been sucked out;
Its vibrancy has disappeared,
The space now lies abandoned;
Its fixtures and fittings all cleared.

In life, this space
Has just one goal –
To make itself useful
And fulfil a new role.

Submitted: Friday, March 14, 2014
Edited: Thursday, March 20, 2014

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Topic(s): Work

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  • Colleen Courtney (3/14/2014 10:51:00 PM)

    Wonderful poem! Brought back memories of when I was a child and every Tuesday on my Dad's day off, him, myself and my Mom always had lunch at the Woolworths lunch counter. Thank you for bringing back a precious memory! (Report) Reply

  • Bill Cantrell (3/14/2014 6:38:00 PM)

    A true to life poem that rhymes with reality and that is very well crafted, thanks for posting. (Report) Reply

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