Pop-up Shops Are Everywhere
 
We’d set off for the shops together
little and big hands linked as one.
Every day in every weather
jumping puddles, having fun.
 
Crackled flagstones led us further
through the dragon factory smoke
potions held in pop tin flagons
sure protection from the soak.
 
Cakes were waiting at the bakers
bread and scones and speckled buns.
Treasure bagged for scoffing later
‘keep your crusts to feed the swans.’
 
Lines of corpses hung together
tattooed with the butcher’s stamp.
Shudder but then search the sawdust
for the spell to banish damp.
 
Now the factory has been plundered
all that’s left a drab parade.
Trees are growing through the facades
where we shopped and hid and played.
 
Take the car to park and ride
no interaction in the store.
The magic of our childhood wonder
washed away forever more.
 
With just one click the world’s for sale,
we’re ruled by advertising flair
but in small towns I look around and
pop-up shops are everywhere.