How much more local
Life from breath to breath
living on the spur of the moment
among roses and daffodils
down by Erith Deep Wharf
the river’s ebb revealing
the mudflats where long-legged
oyster-catchers and other waders
eke out an existence
so much memory
so much sunken time
so much change since I was a child
the wooden jetties collapsed
replaced by the cold hard cement
of progress and the dull hand
of municipal planning in which
the imagination is forced
into a backseat or is totally costed
out of the process
degenerate regeneration
as though nobody was ever expected
to survive the onslaught
all that corrodes
with no eye for beauty
no ear for the truth
no rest for the innocent
no life for lovers
John Lyons