War, Spring

War, Spring

Practically a hundred years ago

We’ve come back round again

Burst forth is colour in the clouds

The smiles in the earth

Drawn hot across the brickwork

Of our little towns

As was a hundred years ago

Which brings out the girl on her blue bike

Glossy white bow on fair hair

Whilst a boy skulks to a sunny patch

Hair shaved and cropped to a fraction of his forefathers

Before the war

But after this spring.