The city was truly a grand sight to see
The spires of the cathedral against the clear blue sky
Lit by the summer sun just after the rain
Surely nowhere else could be the same?
The good folk of Peterborough went about their daily lives
Men with their children and wives
The deep green lawns in front of the great house of God
Covered with worshippers to the sun
Cropped tops
Cut off jeans
Oh to be young
The sweet smell of coffee from the vendor in the square
Floated on the breeze and filled the air
The old men with their opened out papers
Oblivious to the world
Sadly for them it had long ago passed them by
But they still dreamt of the days they could catch a lady’s eye
Oh yes even in the year of our lord two thousand and nine
To be in England is sublime.

No reproduction without permission Copyright Poemmaker 2009