The Past

Perhaps one ought
Not to look back.
Yet I walk
That old, familiar track.

I pass the flats,
(Once a bustling, hustling pub).
And remember idle talk
Over Sunday grub.

Having passed the flats
I retrace my tracks.
For one can not go back,
To what is long since gone.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.