The view has not changed, some buildings still the same,

Familiar landmarks there’s that road, now what was its name?

This place where I was born, where I was nursed and went to school,

Soft shoes inside, teachers whistle blown meant no talking at all.

Claremont Gardens was our playground, a hut, a boating pond, places to hide.

Some features still there but empty now, how did it appear so wide?

The clock tower peering down on the station does not change.

But where’s Woolworths and the fishmonger, the post office now a restaurant, seems strange.

To those gone who walked that street. I still hear your voice.

If I could press a button to bring it all back, sadly I don’t have that choice.