13th Mar 13
and in the shop…
Two Rivers Press
we had cream on our porridge,
joints of beef with yellow fat,
fruit cake, boiled eggs and bananas.
I didn’t have to sleep on the settee
beside my brother on a camp bed,
Mum closing iron window shutters.
We didn’t have to carry gas masks
in canvas bags to school, breathe
their rubbery stifling smell, fumble
to put them on in sixty seconds.
We weren’t sucked from sleep by waves
of air raid sirens; distant growl of bombers,
Dad on the creaky stairs, going out
in his black siren suit, tin hat marked ARP,
and Auntie Elsie didn’t bite her nails
down to the quick, and afterwards
let tears run down into her cup of tea.