Getting hung up all day on smiles
Walking down portobello road for miles
Greeting strangers in indian boots,
Yellow ties and old brown suits….Growing old is my only danger
Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks
Lampshades of old antique leather
Nothing looks weird, not even a beard
Or the boots made out of feathers
Portobello Road…I’ll keep walking miles ’til I feel
A broom beneath my feet
Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street
Growing old is my only danger…Portobello Road.
(Excerpt from the song, “Portobello Road” by Cat Stevens…post inspired by a day with my sister and brother on London’s Portobello Road.)
