Poetry Corner: Westbury Manor Museum
It’s not just the residual mortality of getting older,
But the eradication of places I once knew,
A museum where I used to volunteer,
Is now just a cafe,
Oh Westbury Manor Museum,
You are always more than a cafe,
The grief swells in me,
As I feel one of my former houses burn,
I wish I was angry,
But I think we knew it all was coming,
The passing of time is harsh,.
For it’s the one thing you can’t rebel against,
I should retreat into a stupor,
But then, time will still pass,
Perhaps, I’m too sentimental,
After all, nothing lasts.
But I accept my sadness, I accept my grief,
That’s a sign of emotional maturity,
But I do not wish to fight myself, much longer.
Being back at my parents
Feels like I’m displaced out of time,
Especially with no job, I feel like a layabout,
Yet I still rise,
Still try to earn my keep,
Even with sadness lodged in my heart, I move.
PICTURED: Westbury Manor Museum, located in Fareham Town Centre, stands proudly in the sunshine before its closure and the building is now only used as a café.
