Nostalgia, is it all it’s cracked up to be ?


To me nostalgia is the reek of urine
Ever present in the alleys and back streets of my youth.
I still have fond memories of where
I learned to be nimble by avoiding dog shit.
Where the chip wrappers seemed sentient
And would nuzzle affectionately at your legs.
Every street used to have a pub
Or a phone box or a corner shop.
Now every street has empty beer cans
Racist graffiti and used needles.
But in my imagination
I am still twelve again.
Riding my new bike  never thinking
Of growing old or leaving.

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