A note from the poet: This is a love poem of sorts to Tooting high street. The poem focuses on the constant change the street goes through, but warns of irreversible change (climate change) that compromises such a paradise.
An outside of burnt wood and old fruit fills me as I leave my door,
the dusty path sings back to me with the dull clap of the dawn.
The cat and its kitten that sit down the road aren’t disturbed by breakers of peace,
they revel in motion and the happy commotion of lives passing through on the street.
The windows watch with their high paned views,
as the fruit stall shifts and changes,
the same cries are heard every day,
with all the variable ranges.
Wouldnt it be a shame if in all that change we could never go to sleep?
Never start over and live the mundane inconsistencies of the street.
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