My Memories Of A Townhouse
I was three and four
by Patrick O'Reilly
With a baby brother in my arms
Walking around the smoky city,
Hiking through concrete canyons.
I stood and gazed up in awe
At the Murray Premises, the Blarney Stone
The soldier statue, the big ships in the harbour.
In my innocence I loved them all.
Then feet and wheels started moving
And I forgot how it felt
To stand high atop Signal Hill,
Protecting the city,
Or to feel sandwiched
Between two other brightly coloured blocks.
In my age, I still love them all.
In my sadder times, I miss them.