storm

the clichés are flying

gasps

 cyclogenesis 

waiting for the storm

of war

 the day’s urchin’s

their faces the inroads 

of the streetwise 

 little satchels

carrying big lives’

little steps

 black rain 

running

tears

wondering

if the war has started yet

nice music 

 the sea

how it loves the rock

strongly now

 windy rain

a long walk it is to be

for a sea swim

 rusting slowly

in the tears of time’s eye

whose fairground is this

 when the sun

is drawing cartoons across

a red wall

 grenfell park

time climbed over the railings

from nanna’s 

 tablets

chalk and slates

time in school