MEMORIES OF BOLTON
My 6-year-0ld self, - overcome with awe,
listens to the rumble and the rattle
as looms, majestically swept in unison,
back and forth across the vast mill floor.
Turbaned women shouted above the din
unperturbed by the continual motion.
Then on to the old covered market,
clutching my wicker, child-sized basket
and getting lost among the myriad of legs,
unnerved by rough forceful voices
competing in selling their wares
underscoring the complexity of choices.
But we were heading for the hot 'Vimto' stall
"it does you good" I was told
but I didn't like it.
We moved further into the depths
and the bustle increased becoming a crush,
I hated the noise and the rush
but I was promised a treat,
"The best ice cream in the world"
jiggling on tired legs, I anticipated
"The best ice cream in the world"
Tognarelli's no less, but was it the best?
one twopenny cone gave me a headache,
then we went home.
Flyntland
Sat 15th Mar 2025 20:07
Thank you RBK, Hugh, Stephen, and Manish for reading this nostalgic little poem and liking it.