BROKEN THINGS

You knew these streets like a satnav,

saw them sunday best and wore their tee shirts.

Now rubble footprints kick half moved earth

and gangs of buddleia gather to heckle.

Only you are waved through.

In this no frills town you were a godsend.

Broke bread with the vanished 

and drank with them from jam jars.

Week after week beneath the smog

you were a lifeline, testing vital signs.

Mending broken things.

Tony Noon