The Park beneath the Town

A little tribute to little town

The Park beneath the Town

Underneath the arches,
lies a park beneath the town
Time's arrow flies, it marches,
with the Mills now rubble... down

A bridge to form a union
'tween old town and the new,
with workers in communion,
in mills that time outgrew

Workers in their tedium,
with branches left unmet
Walkways raised, millennium
the river Goyt was Sett

Such yarns spun, coal and cotton
printed calico... mined looms
industrial, forgotten
as the revolution booms

Reduced to valleyed walkways,
scenic, lush and green
Weirs, wends and causeways,
architecture, aged, unseen

Abandoned now to nature,
in the valley of the Torrs
Milling round, a whisper,
winding trails to explore

An amble through time's debris
'midst rivers, mills and vales
A ramble round such ebbed scree
… such ruins hide their tales

Forgotten now to many,
remembered by the few,
as old mills lay around me
in the shadows of the new

As daylight burns, time parches,
factoried minds, a park is born
… and loved beneath the arches,
where the sweetest hearts are drawn