A lament to The Tram Inn of Eardisley

“Hello The Tram Inn Eardisley Hope speaking, how may I help you?”
There are sounds that surround the people
I will miss.
The click and slam of the till,
The phone ringing,
Even the echo of the kitchen bell.
“No, I’ve got one in, I’m sure I do…”
The King of Dogs
lying silently,
waiting for his share of
peanuts, crisps or chips.
This place has become my home,
a family with an unquenchable thirst.
“Check on!”
The bottles on the shelves
like the people in front of me,
I have studied meticulously.
Their features and habits
are fixed in my mind.
“What local ales do you serve please?”
There are some things
I will miss more than others.
Like the sound which for me epitomises the
Beginning, duration, and end
Of every moment in this place.
The sound of the latch
sliding open
and slatting close
on the front door.
“Hello darling, half a Carling please, thank you sweetie.”
I have fallen in love with this building,
The bricks, beams and History.
The people integral to the architecture.
Some things never change.
In a place like this,
It’s impossible to be alone.
“Right, you can sign out now girls.”

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