Not For SaleA Poem by Chris Shaw
our parents dwelt amid shabby chicness
old Victorian elegance in Grantham Hall its upper floor apartment spacious with tall windows, eyes wide open on Wellswood below a wrought iron staircase in need of a warm coat to cover the emergence of rust patches an annexe where Grandma's sixth sense always meant she was the first to greet you three decades gone, a for sale board on display i took a virtual tour with the hope of recalling more more memories, yet i barely recognise the inside so upmarket this new look, so lavish, so not them
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Added on April 25, 2020Last Updated on April 25, 2020 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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