Looking back

The school-bell hangs in silence now,
Its tolls will ring no more,
To herald from the streets and lanes
Young children by the score.
For the school has been converted
Into flats and maisonettes
The halls for recreation, with
The rich in “Private Lets”

They have this snobbish tendency
To think it rather fun,
To live in Mew and warehouses
Where honest work was done
Behind frilled curtained windows
The tenants smartly dressed
Relate the tales of idle hours
That leaves them tired and stressed

And in the playground car park
Now lined and marked in script,
The boys played with their peg tops,
And pretty girls once skipped.
And by the sloping pathway there,
Where winter slides took place,
They've planted shrubs and rosebeds
To give an air of grace.

But do they give a caring thought,
To the aged who may sigh
With open eyes and amazement
To ask the question “Why?”
Who may not see the “Private” signs,
Nor cameras on the masts,
When listening with a tear stained eye
To voices of the past.

© PRISM 2010