Space Hopper

I watched a girl bring home her
Space Hopper from the window
of the room where I write.
She carried it, as I carried mine
in the seventies, something to replace
bicycles, something to entertain.
She could have been my sister, walking

home in the mid day of summer,
walking home alone that has
registered these words back
into memory, my Space Hopper
red with unusual ears
that brought comfort to all,
those who wanted a go

down New Lane,
the sound of the street
calling to school
as we had to lose it,
English calling, Mr Smith
never in good mood,
anything to get it over with

as I would want to too,
the Space Hopper
waiting for the evening,
sunlit and full of satisfaction.

John Cornwall