It was a sad little street,
houses all terraced
lined up like soldiers
with no front gardens.
Two up, two down
we called them
and nowadays
well, they’re hot!
I wonder at the world
with its price wars,
its property market,
its values.
Years ago your house
was your home,
you had local friends
you had roots.
These days it’s not cool
to all live streets away,
pop in and chat,
have an open door.
Folk move away,
find jobs elsewhere,
become isolated
and up market.
I phoned my sister
the other day.
We used to share a bed,
bottom to bottom.
I said, “how are you,
what you up to.”
And d’you know
she replied.
“I’m in Manchester
in glorious isolation”
Sign of the times I sighed,
with saddened eyes.
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/glorious-isolation/
