Waltham Abbey

Waltham Abbey

I know this place

I was alive here

Before the beginning was an end

When laughter was a joint enterprise

Tears were shared, hearts locked

In mutuality

The mundanity of an English market town

As much a part of my life

As the history in its old stone

Seeping out from the confines

Of its reformation into the grey of a wet June morning

Surviving Cromwell

Only to become a urinal

A drinking den for the underaged user

Without a prayer for the future

Dark clouds hover over the tea party

I am the mad hatter now

Once upon a time, I was a rabbit

Now I am far too late

But I do remember carrot cake

As if it was manna from heaven

A ruined Abbey still has an aura

Of continuity

Even when the chain has been broken

You can still find

A little crumb of comfort, nestling

Among its disparate pieces