Remembrance

Parts of this allotment shed: the frame, the roof trusses, the oil-saturated railway sleepers that it sits on, if they could talk:

… they would recall the young miner who grew food for his hard working family and neighbours in the years of the Great War. The war, they said that would end all wars. The miner, and his pals who kept producing the coal that kept the factories going, with women taking up the tools, that fed the effort that changed the world. The miner whose brother, giddy to fight the common enemy, so full of life he lied about his age when he joined up, left … left but did not return.

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Empty

This still evening

Cool cloudscape bubbles rise,

Spread across the horizon

Like ogre’s thrice warmed,

Ugly supper beans:

Grey, slow, irresistible.

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