VIEW FROM THE INNER CITY by Barry Tebb
Leeds this silent solemn Sunday
Tempest Road is clear of all
But wistful birds, parked cars
And vagrant trees.
The surgery and pharmacy are shuttered tight
"Get your medication straight into your bag",
The friendly GP gravely warned, "The junks
Lay in wait to grab and run from those no longer young
The building site’s scaffolding of bone
Masks pristine piles of bricks where
May winds mourn and moan among
The gaping frames beneath a bannered
Street-wide invitation to a "Housing Consultation Initiative"
Flapping desultory and unread
Where last year ‘Beeston in Bloom’ was up instead.