Ode to W H Smith

Oh W H Smith, how I miss
The rows of sellotape
So carefully arranged between staplers
And ring reinforcements
The magazines on shelves of steel
That reached so high and stretched
Away, away from once young hands

Oh W H Smith, times have changed
The world can only wonder where
Your thunder, once so strong, has gone
The lights seem somehow dimmer now
The pennies scrimped and saved
To shore up marginal gains
Pained relics, remnants of retail nostalgia

Oh W H Smith, dare I stand
Amid the shelves, once elegant
But now awry, ramshackle
Labelled with dog-eared cardboard
Corners cut, your former joy
To serve shut down, shutters stuck
In some half open, slack-jawed position

Oh W H Smith, where are you now
My memories, still so sweet, though tarnished
By today’s shambolic tactics.
Even as you betray our friendship
I hear your words and see
My own mortality:
“Can I interest you
In any of
Our special offers?”


Also published on Medium.

Ode to W H Smith

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