June in Hythe. <br /> <br />Down in Hythe by the river side <br />Where the reeds are growing five feet wide <br />Cherries hang in fruitful tree <br />In allotments tended lovingly <br />Swallows glide in harmony <br />In the meadows by the town. <br /> <br />Within the park by the Roman Keep <br />Stands a cold grey stone in history deep <br />From the civil war that made men weep, <br />Up on the hill the view is wide, <br />As the sunsets orange at evening tide. <br /> <br />Buildings yawn from ancient times <br />Creaking gables, coloured limes <br />Roman wall built with hands <br />All now passed like shifting sands <br />Sagging rooftops on the move, <br />But to the eye they still approve. <br /> <br /> <br />Twisted oaks no longer square <br />Hold up walls of horses’ hair <br />Mixed with plaster centuries old <br />Changing shape like molten gold, <br />Walls leaning, moving through the years <br />Fill builders’ minds with sinking fears. <br /> <br />In Colchester town where time recedes <br />On Roman walls now grown with weeds, <br />History calls from building shapes <br />In coloured forms of architectural drapes, <br />Up on the hill the view is wide, <br />As the sunsets orange at evening tide.<br /><br />Wojja Fink<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/colchester/
