A gloss white basin set in dark loam woodWith shiny taps that sparkle when they flow.The walls, half-panelled, are not the colour of mud;
Mam made a conefrom newspaper and put sugar in it.Then she’d give each of us a stickof rhubarb, to dip.
We’re on the train that’s racing to the seaside for the dayI’ve got my towel and costume, my bucket and my spadeOutside I get a fleeting look at cows in fields of green
“Too whit my dear husband, please hurry, make hasteAll three eggs have hatched, there is no time to waste.The table is empty, not a bite in the house.
Why do you use me, abuse me so badly?Screwing up paper and squashing it madly;nestling the throwaway news in my innards.
I hear the clang of the bell and I see myselfrunning on cold concrete across the school playground,