There they are again.
Or maybe they're different this time.
Different in looks at most.
Special brew in hand
they sit on the children's swings
watching the day go by.
I can't remember the last time
that I walked this way
and didn't see at least two of them
sitting on the swings,
hiding in the entrance to that small building
ruining what was a children's park.
Can't remember the last time
the playground didn't have empty
tinnies on the floor
and **** around the edges.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
There they are again.
Or maybe they're different this time.
Different in looks at most.
Special brew in hand
they sit on the children's swings
watching the day go by.
I can't remember the last time
that I walked this way
and didn't see at least two of them
sitting on the swings,
hiding in the entrance to that small building
ruining what was a children's park.
Can't remember the last time
the playground didn't have empty
tinnies on the floor
and **** around the edges.
written on the 19th Feb 2013. The first poem in my Northampton collection. Inspired by my observations of a small playground I walk passed on the way to and from uni. I can guarantee that whatever time I walk passed there will be adults sitting their drinking. It's the same everywhere I go. The only reason I can come up with is that I live in town centre, but even that doesn't explain why it's gotten so much worse over the last 6 months.