Wisbech Morning

Florescent clothed neighbours gather

Morning whispers as they board their bus

Fields outside the town shrouded in mist

Already people hunched and busy grabbing

At the soil and filling the towering crates

 

We call her Anna from Warsaw

But she lived in a small town like ours

Far from family and home but remembers

Every month she gives but cannot afford to

But her mother is so proud

 

Our market is shambolic and adrift

This flagship lacking in colour, joy and pride

Facsimiled mini-markets keep economy afloat

But no value added to a day trip

No sail to drop, without even a breeze to threat

 

Mothers complain about how hard life is

There is genuine need and want all about us

People have lost ambition and focus on their loss

As looking for treasure but not leaving the harbour

And this fog of disillusion makes it hard for me to see
Yet there is no satisfaction to settle for less

And we listen to the siren song of malcontents

Thoughts rather stray to triumph far away

Sending our children on the airstream frustrated

Passing other’s children landing on an easterly wind

 

Dean Reeves

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s