Hereabouts - not any more
The corner bakery is dead
A padlock on the door.
The hairdresser across the way
Confesses she’s distraught
Fresh baking smells would make her day;
For there she often bought -
A French baguette, some nice warm rolls
Or a fresh fruit tart;
What a boon for all those souls
Who sandwiched in the park.
The little houses in our street
Miss this friendly place
As here the neighbours used to meet
To gossip and to taste.
It’s the latest in a growing trend;
Small businesses are dying.
This lack of dough - where will it end?
Politics isn't trying.
(c) Poet in the woods 2013
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