The Hill Poem by John A'Hern

Childhood playground lost in council planning
Grass and gorse grew unhindered,
Running exploring every corner
Large rock outcrops and quarries.

A structure called the reservoir
Surrounded by high stone walls,
Trespassers will be prosecuted!
Inside a deserted landscape beckoned.

Reservoir but no sign of water to be found
Iron sheeting covering the centre of the structure,
Through the years, they had become rusted
There you see the water.

Run, running until the reservoir was far behind
Another landmark this is called the Windmill,
A building nicknamed the windmill
A Beacon used to help ships navigate shallow water?

Thirsty and hungry running back home
Tomorrows came and went you grow into an adult.
You leave your home and the hill
You return several years later your home it no longer existed.

The hill still looked down and seemed to say you are invited
You walked not ran and looked for familiar landmarks,
Houses stood where once grew the grass and gorse
Fences existed where once stood open spaces.

Views have changed, looking down upon your beloved Town
Old School has moved, but only a couple of hundred metres,
New names new roads, I looked at an area named the Marina
Yachts and boats so expensive, all moored, no sign of any owners.

You walk the streets as done as a child
Everything much narrower now, the distances much shorter,
Houses are in a time warp, little or no change in how they looked
A man approaches and asked, what are you doing?

I know you, both saying at the same time
Shaking hands and hugging as friends,
Our families were friends in the days gone by.
Onward, reaching the Beach, where are all the sand dunes?

Two piers stretch out into the sea
Waves rolling in stirring up the sandy mud.
Looking for the Markets, do they still exist?
Cockles in a paper bag with lots of vinegar and pepper.

Vegetable displays are enough to turn a man into a vegetarian,
Until Jones, the meat is spotted, selling his magnificent lamb
They will keep a welcome, you will return.