The Roots Of Life Poem
By Jayne Louise Davies
Raised in a small mining village,
My love for my hometown’s still strong,
Many old buildings demolished,
But the memories forever go on.
With so much community spirit,
To be shared in one proud, special place,
Old faces still etched in my memories,
Fine characters, never replaced.
I remember the old man,
Who sat by his door,
He would, raise up his hat with a grin,
In the street children played,
Their toys on display,
Making a right joyous din.
Neighbours would stand by their windows,
Young babies wrapped up in their arms,
For this was their time for a natter,
A laugh and a joke mixed with charm.
The men could be seen
walking home from work,
Miners eyes,
Still black from the coal,
Over the years,
They laboured with sweat,
Till the industry ceased its goal.
When I think back on my village,
Those memories were truly the best,
For the roots of our lives hold the memories,
That stay in a heart to rest.
