You knew these streets like a satnav,
saw them sunday best and wore their tee shirts.
Now rubble footprints kick half moved earth
and gangs of buddleia gather to heckle.
Only you are waved through.
In this no frills town you were a godsend.
Broke bread with the vanished
and drank with them from jam jars.
Week after week beneath the smog
you were a lifeline, testing vital signs.
Mending broken things.
Tony Noon
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