I walk through the town
past closed down shops
most windows bare, empty
the occasional sign
closing down sale
like words imprinted
on the tomb of the town
set in the decay
looking back I remember
there used to be lights
a world of choice
people hurrying about
music, food, books
but thats just a memory
slowing fading away
only to be replaced
by retail space for rent
There's no business like small business. Great poem to remind everyone of that. Well done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed this, Matthew. My own town went through a similar experience. Good work!