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Nostalgia (Old England)

by Roy K Austin

I remember a time when seven was old
and those hay - ricks were seen there, crossing the wold,

when a church door would open - never to lock
and hours were missed from not reading the clock,

with nodding horses and a Constable sky
and a watermill with a stream running by,

when days of summer seemed golden and long
now lost as a tune to an ancient song ;

much closer to me than that orbital pass
are all of these bygones, defying ˜the glass˜,

for what we have lost is like bread without leaven
or the lie of the land as a way to a heaven.... ... ...

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