No.73 High Street

A thousand years of history
caressed in woodwormed beams,
cradled in wattle and daub.

Past whispers in mullion windows,
pale faces etched in leaded glass.
Centuries a heartbeat.

Uneven polished floor.
Footsteps tread a muffled echo,
a glimpse of yesteryear.

Secrets hidden, stories untold.
Bulldozers threatening at the end of the road.

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