Popping down to Bexleyheath

I’m curious: what lies beneath Once this was part of kent but now part of a vast city the fields replaced with concrete rivers with roads

Once a town now just a suburb And yet a feeling remains it is still akin to the towns of my childhood: Northern market towns, with their slow pace defiantly unurban, still small It reminds me of somewhere else and you forget you’re in london.

It still feels Kentish, small, homely

As if this small corner of the metropolis

Clings to the past