The Only Living Boy In Brum

Taking the train back homeward bound,
A poet with a suitcase in hand.
The people walk into me like I were a ghost,
They just can’t see beyond where they want to go,
Looks like I’m the only living boy in Brum.

Break a tenner into change-
Enough to carry me home.
I sit on the bus as it goes through the city,
See all the places I used to go,
They only hold memories for the only living boy in Brum.

Selfridges looms like a tower of golf balls.
Somebody climbed it once,
I saw the pictures on local TV,
But I watch a different channel now.
The only living boy in Brum.

There was a time,
That this place was the world to me,
But I have moved on
And it does not welcome back the only living boy in Brum.

poem by Charlie F. Kane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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