In 1966, after school
we leaned against
your railings,
waited for the F19.
Behind us, you were
a pale grey monolith,
stilled by wisdom.
You were always there
just in case, like the
safety of home.
You would have welcomed us
but we thought we were
still exploring other worlds.
Forty five years later
you are still the
pale grey monolith.
You still welcome us,
offer your wisdom.
Now we lean our bikes
against the railings
(are they really the same)
disappear into the
limestone world
for whole afternoons,
into cool chamber and census
to look for our father's
home.