Foundry Gates

A pint of Broadside from Southwold got John reminiscing about his teacher training days in Manchester. He was walking past some gigantic gates of a defunct iron foundry and took a photograph. He also wrote a poem about the image which he took. All this was 20 years ago. He told me he could still remember the poem and would write it out now in the pub. I rummaged in my rucksack for paper to no avail. John went for some,  and came back WITH A PAPER PLATE. He then proceeded to write down his poem from memory without a pause or a single crossing out.

Please click on the image to read the poem. Thanks John for this poem, and the new genre of paper plate pomes.