Tracks Poem by Gary Diamond

Sometimes the wrong side of the tracks
Is the fun side of the tracks.
I remember when I was just a child
The disused railway tracks where me and the father would walk.

Overgrown.
Deserted.
It fitted that we could walk for miles.
It was me and my father and those dirty tracks
And some sundays we'd walk for miles.

In those days, the word sunday was synonymous with lazy.
It was a beautiful day.
Even the evil of television was something bearable.
There'd be the dinner, then the walk
And then some kind of cake on the return.

One day we walked so far we saw the tracks hit the station
The real modern trains, moving and undulating.
I liked that.
I liked the thought that we might
Get caught.

Overgrown with weeds and famine.
Deserted except for birds and vermin.
It was a time when I was still finding out that
Being naive was a crime that didn't pay.
I learnt that later outside the walls
When the bullies closed in
For the lunch money I was missing.