By Paul Hackett

Unfolding across a hill, a Rome of the Marches,

Narrow streets of tar crying out to be cobbled car free tracks

Crawl like ivy amid esoteric shops, pubs and retail chain stores.

I ask myself, 'where am I?'

A Hill Town: a Shropshire renege,

Both Welsh and English in style, but most English in character.

The too large church stead imperiously

Atop the otherwise spire free townscape

Perches over a re-birthing Phoenix

Arcade, post office, world wide restaurants and supermarkets:

Concessions to modernity

Ancient market hall has become the home of town history, and occasionally markets

A hotel with royal river views

To the west over the Herefordshire plain

The well-known towns face for those passing by

In summer banners span the streets promising cultural delights

Bringing international elan, Ken Dodd at the festival

River Wye swollen, floods the Low Town in winter

Traffic wardens guard too few parking spaces

New age travellers supplicant with their dogs

Who can tell the locals?

Middle age women in cloths: easy on the pocket

Middle class divas in Harrods fashion

Men bypassed by stylishness

Skin heads walk past talk on their mobile phones

Young women parade their femininity

A Peoples' caf, a place to meet old friends and make new.

And Artists! Alternative practitioners!

Seeking an alternate way of life in this township:

A town of assorted styles and characters.