POETRY IN MOTION
The Iron Horse R.I.P.
They've closed it down,
Knocked it down.
Now they're building flats.
A popular pub and meeting place,
A biker's pub for years.
Well-known by those from far and near.
Where strangers soon made friends.
Where we would meet before a run,
Our bikes lined up outside.
A quick half maybe or a coke
Then leave to waves and cheers.
Or rendezvous when rally-bound,
Bikes stacked with tents and gear.
Discuss the route and who takes who
Then set off slowest first.
Where I could have a cup of tea
The kettle always on.
A regular who didn't drink
But felt that I belong.
Not just a pub, a building,
Part of a once-proud town,
But memories don't bring in cash.
It pays to knock them down.
So now we'll see some faceless flats
With faceless strangers filled,
Some faceless corporation's
Faceless fat-cats thrilled.
I've never drunk but I'm so sad
The Iron Horse has had its day.
Each bike I've had has spent time there.
I knew where I had friends.
Another memory crumbles
And that won't be the last.
There's a future for the wizz-kids
In knocking down the past.
The bastards.
Comment On This Poem ---
The Iron Horse R.I.P.
The Iron Horse R.I.P.
