Imagine, for a moment, you have flu twenty-four-seven

You have walked non-stop from Bolton to Leigh

You’re shattered, so tired, lethargic and weak

All that you want to do is curl up and sleep.

Imagine, for a moment, you walked part of the way in bare feet

Constant pain in your joints from pounding the streets

Your muscles are aching from head down to toe

You move like a snail, your one speed is slow.

Imagine, for a moment, as a Christian seeing a church vandalised

Your memories wantonly destroyed, and nobody seems to care

Anger, hot flushes, your faith tested with tears and cold sweats

You worry about vandalism, your security and are unable to eat.

Imagine, for a moment, you live all alone and nobody cares

And your home is in a no-go area of Leigh

Put all this together, take away your money and dignity

There’s no way you can get warm in a town when there’s ice on the streets.

It’s not imagination, you’re a pensioner in Leigh.

B Welch

Leigh