Winds Of Change

Hey Readers On this night I think back to my childhood and the storms of 1968. The worst storms ever to hit Glasgow. It is I think true to say they had a major impact on a lot more lives than mine especially those who were old enough to know that they would result in changing the geography of Glasgow and may even be responsible for the death of what my patents referred to as community spirit.  I have titled this poem
Winds Of Change I hope you enjoy the read. 

Winds Of Change.

It was a cold winter’s night
in the hours between 14th and 15th of January
when the hurricane hit Glasgow
like  a drunken, unwanted visitor
singing songs of sorrow
as howling gales battered down our nation
making it a year I won’t forget
half of the city needed rehoused 
as the storms damaged homes
fracturing communities
devastating all in its path
as nature showed its power
a frightened child I was carried from our home in the top floor
by my daddy
to my gran’s my mother’s mammy
stayed in the bottom floor
of the same building
afraid, I couldn’t sleep
my dad said I would be fine
and I  was out like a light
the next morning my mum  explained
we might have to move home
to somewhere nice
neighbourhoods were destroyed
some friends were  sent to Sighthill or even Easterhouse
we never went very far
a five minute  walk
from  Lambhill the village within a city.
to Cadder the next scheme to the west 
This suited my mum
she thought it best to stay to her roots
like many dispossessed families
we ended up  round the corner
from where we had been
It kept, if you like a sense of belonging
my mum could still go to Hannah’s cafe
the post office she had always known
where the MacLean’s knew their customers by name
Jack the butcher’s for  our sausages, Sunday roasts, and steak pies
I survived the storms of 68
and the winds of change they brought
on the night that battered Scotland
looking back all I can remember
was the fright I got and still get 
whenever I hear or think I hear
a cold wind blowing.

@ Gayle Smith 2016

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