Closed Shop

An Elegy on the death of the High Street

Stop all the socks; return the tops and ties, Prevent the buyers ordering for the stores, Silence all the shoppers’ protest cries And grieve, for BHS has locked its doors. Let Carpetright weave patterns of remorse And strip its rugs of all their fancy frills, Tell Toys ‘R’ Us to shroud the rocking horse, Let Poundworld ditch its coins and close its tills. They were my life, my joy, my bliss, my all, My daily jaunts to join the happy throng, My High Street treasure chests, my shopping mall; I thought they’d always be there: I was wrong. Blockbuster, Woolworths, Maplin, all closed down. Board up windows, whitewash every pane. Buy goods online and go no more to town. For nothing now can stir its heart again.