To be born in a paradise of green
Rich crops in fields protected by scarecrows
Amidst trees, flowers and endless hedgerows
Below hilltops that overlook the scene
Stretching far across an idyllic dream.
Is to know, that urban longing follows
To escape from rural woodland hollows
Towards the big city’s magnetic gleam.
And there to dwell yearning for excitement
Deaf to the moorhen and the nightingale
In some shared house or noisy apartment
Waking to the sound of a siren’s wail,
Following frantic crowds on the pavement
Blind to the hoof print and the foxes trail.
David Subacchi was born in Wales (UK) of Italian roots and writes in English, Welsh and sometimes Italian. Cestrian Press has published three collections of his poetry ‘First Cut’ (2012), ‘Hiding in Shadows’ (2014) and ‘Not Really a Stranger’ (2016). His Blog can be found at http://www.writeoutloud.net/profiles/davidsubacchi.
