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The Club Shop - by Chris Towers

She loved the black walls and cherry red door.

Sheffield's own Aladdin’s cave and treasures,

programmes in sepia from walls to floor,

like genies in bottles for her pleasures.

 

This shed of badges, softly glimmering,

pennants, story books and jewels untold.

The dust was for her stardust shimmering,

like the shiny soft Sheffield shirts of old.

 

Jangling silver, shuffling forward, she’d buy

a laced-up jersey with a face that glowed,

the black and red squares produced a sigh,

for every yard, in every fabric fold.

 

She caressed the cotton of Sheffield old,

for in Aladdin’s cave, she found her gold.