CROSSROADS

Two roads diverge where the elm trees stood

Watching on through crossroads

Winding whispering woods

Pebble columns, amber grass

My old stomping ground holding fast

I see them peer over high brick walls

The gargoyles in their stately homes

Past the anchor, marked in bold

Tucked away, laid to rest

On long streets paved with molten gold

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I watch on through crossroads

Sunsoaked, in a coat of new green paint

For I was born not far from here

Under the gargoyles’ eye

Steered off the garden path, my fate

Semi-Detached, train tracks, London’s gaol

Beneath poorer, bluer sky

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For I was born not far from here

Under old Queen Mary’s eye

Now standing dissonant where the elm trees stood

Watching the cars passing by