Our Council House....Bitter sweet
Our council house....
Sat in the rows of anonymity
All red brick and
White crittle window frames
Which dripped condensation
Continually
A wonderful resource in poverty's
Young nostalgic days
Ran out of paper
No problem! ..
Just breath and draw till your hearts content
Erase with your sleeve and
Start again
Outside grey pavement framed neatly cut grass
And the red phone box
For graffiti
And 10p to call and ask 'will you go out with me? '
'Not bloody likely! ' came the reply
And i didn't mind gazing at my world
My existence
My domain
Where our grass (out front) stood taller and prouder than everyone else's
With what looked like...
Wheat blowing in the breeze
It was young and fresh and appeared so free
We could play hide and seek in our tall unkept green
Lay on your tummies
You'd never be seen
And the old concrete white painted (hob nail boot)
Stood solid on our doorstep
Represented Muvva Perfectly!
A giggle
A hoot
Whilst outside appeared disgraceful
The state of our house
On the face, full of
All the things us Brits hated, those days
'Dont judge a book by the cover'
I say
Enter the chocolate box
The perfect home
Taken by devious fox
She was the best hoister ever
She was ever so good
The best I believe in our neck of the woods
We had crush velvet curtains
To ground
Soft soft sumptuous towels
Shag pile carpets
All round
Living the 70s dream
Lap of luxury
We had it all
And it was free....
Three doors down lived Retta
My best mate
Her lot never had much
But
A loving honest hardworking
Single Mum
A place full of love
That was my home......
Thank you Retta xxx
poem by Karen Sinclair
Added by Poetry Lover
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