I seem to see superimposed
upon today’s reality
An older world a fantasy
this high street as it used to be.
Pondering with eyes half closed.
I can imagine easily.
This old streets chequered history.
Today a lasting legacy.
Perhaps in truth I merely dozed
and only dreamt that I could see.
This cobbles street completely free.
From all modern technology.
A great deal different I suppose.
No mobile phones, no cameras
no bicycles, no motor cars.
Then in my mind a question rose.
Was there a possibility
my poet’s sensitivity.
Had actually enabled me.
To slip through times firmly closed door
and see vignettes from history.
A gift that fate had granted me
I do not know nor ever will.
It must remain a mystery
Just what I saw or did not see
Is etched deep in my memory.
I am compelled I must compose
A verse or two of poetry
Say how this street affected me
The how and why, eluding me
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