'The pub at the end of the road...' - Your Letters: March 25

MY MEMORIES OF LOVED PUBS LOST

The pub at the end of the road

Seems to have come to the end of its road

Boarded up and deserted it stands.

But sometimes, I swear

That you can still hear

The muffled murmurings

Of people inside;

The clinking of glass

The ‘clack’ of a domino,

Laughter and cheering

From those who passed long ago;

Ghosts drinking toasts

Haunting old haunts