The Tesco Site In Gaywood

I wrote this poem as I watched the destruction of a row of houses to make way for a new supermarket and parking lot. 1999

What things these bricks and mortar saw 

when families' laughter filled their walls: 

what history has long since gone 

and now they follow, with their fall. 

Instead of the terraced row before, 

flat tarmac will, their place, fulfil 

and walled backyards will be no more, 

no grass to mow or earth to till. 

In days to come, even the memory 

of what once stood here, will fade away. 

And this flat mass will doubtless fill 

with motor cars rushing by, each day. 

Each home demolished tolls progress' doom, 

each brick it's silent tear, 

how sad our children will not see 

the history that was here. 

Yellow iron tears into aged walls, 

pulling down their solid strength. 

And dustclouds billow as each falls 

like mutterings of contempt. 

When all of these have passed away 

and the tarmac has been laid, 

a Tesco will adorn this site - 

what price has Gaywood paid?