Alienated adults remember happier times
Or are rose-tinted memories realigned?
Student rooms were once full of laughter
From teenage friends who could live forever.
Those halcyon summer days spent
In the sand-whipped House of Fun
Or the haunted Hippodrome
Are sadly long since gone.
Now weary, war-torn streets
Know only the exodus of youthful feet,
A schoolyard dispersed far and wide
Just to earn a living and thrive.
Boarded up shops and converted clubs
Smashed windows and deserted pubs,
Mock the thought of resuscitation
And mourn the lost generation.
“The Lost Generation” was printed in Crossroads, No. 8 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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