Memory hurts – our hearts are stung
But sometimes I think the pain is for
Not a particular place but more
A special time – when we were young
For freer days when we knew hope
And what we felt we had was – scope.
Sitting in the labour
Where no-one’s very pally
I try to love my neighbour...
Soon the winding counties will
Be lost behind me, motorways
And bending roads, the shopping malls...