I was born in a farmhouse deep in the countryside

As a small girl I would look over the stone wall

And watch my neighbours and other locals

Travelling to a market in the next town

These were my happy and warm years

 

And then it all changed when my father was bankrupted

The farm of my childhood years was sold and we moved to a city

It was then that I decided not to grow older as life had disappointed me

I stopped my life at twenty-eight and have drifted around the city ever since

Over one hundred years have passed but I have not changed at all

 

About a month ago I travelled to my former home which I found much changed

The lane outside was now a busy and dangerous road and my wall has been rebuilt

My farm house has been split in two dwellings and the yard has given way to another home

This made my cry and as I travelled back to the city I thought of the tower blocks

As I had once been asked whether I found their illumination attractive to the eye

 

After a little consideration I had answered noting that against a grey light polluted sky

Then yes their illumination could be considered pleasing in an artificial way

But one could be quite as easily be reading Huxley on a wet winters evening