The old place did have its charms
Rising damp along the passage
Low ceilings, leaking toilet
But it was real, solid and warm
With a lived-in feel you only get
From old houses with vague histories
The landlady's son had told a story
About how they used to run a sly
Betting shop out the back in the 20s
His grandmother as a young wife
Standing watch out front
Ready to give the signal
If the coppers appeared
When they did there was whistle tooting
And running up and down back alleys
Through the streets of Collingwood
He wraps plates and cups in paper
Considering the fragility
Of ordinary everyday things
How something is lost every time
We move from one place to another
Funny how you don't realise
The amount of 'stuff' you own
Until you have to pack it in boxes
© shaun patrick green 2012
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