.

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Liverpool

 

Billy’s butty bar;

a broken sign. Remember

dockers’ doorsteps bought?

 

A ruined church stands

on the corner of Bold Street.

Trees grow in the nave.

 

Down in Mathew Street,

Beatles in a museum,

Fruit in restaurants.

 

Warehouses now dressed

in fashionable clothes, still

smell of former stocks.

 

Albert Dock transformed.

The coffee and pasta crowds

overlay old boats.

 

Along the river

trendy dock land flats oppose

humble back to backs

 

and captains’ houses

on the hill, wait in splendour

for old salts’ returns.

 

The Liver Building,

skirts hemmed tight with signs and shops,

signals hopeful birds.

 

St George’s Hall shouts

of glories past. Majesty

still dwarfs city streets.

 

Old bones, old stones, keep

memories locked, not lost, call

through the change of life.