Re: Pickering Poem by Ollie Slaney

There's a town I used to visit, just south of York,
A town of toys thats lost its hold of Time
Or maybe Time let go, so when I walk
its cobbled streets I forget by and by
The world goes on, and in my sweet release
I find great peace, in how it stays the same.
The age of steam pristine, the chuckling trains,
I hope each time I leave I'll take a piece
Home to the city where theres never time to stroll
Round old sweet shops and breathe a different air.
The air of yesteryear, and burning coal
My haven with its blue-rinsed curly hair

With all its quiet, quaint little things,
I hope that Time won't pick up Pickering