A young country mine;
streets on a grid, a line
many times copied from
cities a whole world away.
Streets on these grids, up
hills, around the shores;
but what was not replicated
was the cobbles, the old world.
A young country is mine
Benita Kape © 5.6.2018
Once again I try a Quadrille. This time the prompt is the word “cobble”
benitakape 
I like your description of roads going up and down and around.
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When I was at school, many, many years ago I recall doing diagrams of our city. All roads leading into the square. But oh, when I went to Edinburgh and walked those alleyways it was sheer heaven.
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Yes there is something about cobblestones…perhaps it’s the feeling of history
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For some reason, the plural of the word “cobbles” makes me infinitely happy. 🙂
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Hi, I’m really happy about that. I’ve got a second ‘cobble’ poem and may send this to the pub as well.
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I agree… for some reason the cobbled streets are part of the old(er) world. True cobbles are so very hard to walk on… probably more for wagons and carts.
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Interesting that the old was not replicated in this young city.
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Concrete was the answer, ready material, less labour
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