To Go Or Not To Go.
There's a fun fair
on the bombsite
off Meadow Row
you told Fay
that Friday
on the way home
from school
and she said
I can only come
if my daddy's out
he thinks
all such things
are sinful
and if he
caught me there
he'd beat me for sure
Ok
you said
and let it dropp
and walked on
beside her
the afternoon heat
making you sweat
and then she said
I will try
to come if I can
and she looked sad
and her pale features
seemed even paler
and her eyes searched you
and you said
I hope you can
but if not another time
when the fair returns
and you both paused
at the kerb
as traffic rushed by
and her thin hand
reached out
and held yours
her fingers
touched yours
her thumb rubbing
against your thumb
and when the traffic stopped
because of the change of lights
you walked across the road
still hand in hand
she just a few steps behind
a case of
(as her father
often said)
the blind
leading the blind.
poem by Terry Collett
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