The Blackhorse Place Lamp Post


The Blackhorse Place
lamp post
knew all our secrets.
Long summer evenings,
we would gather around him,
to skip and skate
or swing from his strong arms.
Then he would be den
for hide and seek.
In the winter,
muffled in duffle coats,
we'd cling to his glow
and beg five more minutes,
as mothers stood at gates
to call us in.
As years passed,
new and more sophisticated haunts
replaced our lamp post,
and other children gathered in his light;
until, one day,
bent and rusting,
burdened with too much knowledge,
our friend was carried off,
and in his place,
a smarter lamp post stood,
upright and officious.
Not the sort,
I thought, to keep a secret.





By Kath Dodd