Taylor Street Poem by jim hogg

The window looks the same still
And the frontage hasn't changed.
From end to end the street belongs
To nineteen eighty one.
The Forty Seven on the wall
Was there when eagerly we walked,
That garden path to turn the key
Of the door to our first home.
And not a single car went past
As I stood silently between
The played out possibilities
And more enticing might have beens
That somehow slipped just out of reach.

And down towards the railway line
I strolled through faded images
Into the lane to Cochno St
And the tennis courts where I once played
With my old man in eighty two,
My back to Aberconway Street
As he served with the sun
And my mother sat with you.

I stepped out into Barns Street then
And drove off slowly past the pitches
Where you almost crashed the car.
I could hear your fits of laughter
As I turned towards the Clyde

Now, I'm in tears behind the wheel
through Yoker on Dumbarton Road,
trying to find my way again
back into my way out.