Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Tudor House

Tudor House.

Tudor House, you sit In the heart of Canterbury,
Within the city walls, Part of it's history since the 16th century.
You look out,
Your window boxes overflowing -blues- whites - purples-
Your upper half hanging, leaning,
Over the narrow, cobbled, dusty street.
Your door - only five feet high-people were short in former times.
Now a bed and breakfast, your period features,
Invite the traveler, the visitor,
To stay.
With the Cathedral you share a past.
But today,
Today a mother walks by, not giving you a second glance,
Her baby  in a buggy, Hurrying - somewhere.
A woman passes, laden with shopping in
Marks and Spencer's bags.
A group of young folk - students maybe-
Not interested in the Museum, stroll by, smoking,
Carry drinks in bottles-chat busily.
Two bicycles- there are many in the city-
Pass  your front.
And you,
Tudor House,
You, look on,
Telling your own story.

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