Quite a few of the shops
in the main street
have the shutters down now,
a sign 'to lease'in the window
for prospective buyers.
For the shops that are open
it is business as usual.
The freezing works shut up shop
years ago, causing a downturn
in jobs, economy, hope.
It is hard to find an open shop
after nightfall in the main street,
but, on my walk, there is a superette
that sells everything I need.
At the counter, the salesman says,
'We don't have a closed shop here'.
There is no glare in the street lights
and I find an elusive peace within,
ambling down McLean Street,
where there are few hints
of the past Land Wars.
-16 June,2016.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem