Thornton Hill Gypsy Camp 1970
This poem I made was after watching a dig there on Tv
Thornton Hill Gypsy Camp 1970
Beneath the sky, a fire burned bright,
In the heart of Thornton Hill’s quiet night.
The horses stirred, the wheels rolled slow,
As the gypsies’ campfire cast its glow.
Tents and wagons lined the hill,
The air was full of stories to tell.
Laughter echoed, music played,
shadows danced, dreams were made.
The scent of wood, the taste of earth,
A life untamed, a life of worth.
The stars above, the earth below,
In 1970, a lovely place to go.
The camp was a place all hearts ran free,
A different rhythm, a different plea.
On Thornton Hill, beneath the sky,
The gypsies happy, and time passed by.
by the late ’70s, the site was closed,
The gypsies moved, their camp shut down
In council homes, their lives where not the same,
beneath the soil, on the hill a gypsy trace.
Everything vanished, now a historic place.
A part of history, buried deep,
In Thornton Hill, where ancestors sleep.
Though gone from sight, they still remain,
In whispered winds, in summer rain.
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About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
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