| General Poetry
posted March 13, 2019
On Saturday the Avion was home,
it radiated sunshine when it rained,
the flicks was fun, allowed our dreams to roam.
this mythical Arcadia unchained.
We’d sink beneath the sea of heavy smoke,
we smuggled in a Marlborough for fun,
my mates and I inhaled inside the choke,
the back row where we puffed on more than one.
We watched as Hayley Mills with yellow hair
then acted out her heart upon the screen.
It gave us hope, that we would one day share
a little of the magic she had gleamed.
But bingo was more lucrative than films,
we fugitives no longer puffed on whims.
The Avion was a Cinema in Aldridge, Staffordshire, built in the 1950s where I grew up and they turned the building into a Bingo hall and then restored it and now it is used as a bar and restaurant.
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