Waiting for the daffodils.




Rainbow faces stare out of little huts,
dreaming of a real shop;
bananas in plastic bowls,
everything 1950's made in China,
all prices negotiable.

An old Indian man,
a life time in the foundry,
looking modestly poor and English,
never claimed a penny in benefit.

The white girl with the once beautiful, hard face,
just out of prison and the piercing,
eats a small full English with her friend.

A grandmother, daughter and grandchildren,
glide furtively by,
that small terrace they fought so hard to afford,
now used to the eternal cold,
of an English winter.

A girl with disabilities lies,
listless in a wheelchair,
fully aware of a government,
who likes to kick poor cripples down the stairs.

The tomatoes have been sitting,
in their box for days,
the railway man grabs a cup of coffee,
and dreams of British Rail and summer.

~