Roadmap 1951 to 2021

I'm going back to post-war school,
Skipping with my milltown mum,
Jumping over a rancid rainpool,
Spitting back my old chewed gum.

I'm sitting down in a cute class,
Saying post-war morning prayers,
And it will come to pass, to pass
That someone, somewhere cares.

I'm going back to my woeful work,
Clocking on to a day not mine,
Our motto reads:'Never shirk',
We chant it on the assembly line.

I'm sitting down in a cute care home,
Waiting for my covid meal to arrive,
Around my neck hangs a timely tome
Giving advice on how to survive.







Poetry by Christopher Fernie The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 17 times
Written on 2021-02-22 at 21:58

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
We are of an age, Chris. Your trail parallels mine in many ways. Your touchstones are very evocative. I especially enjoyed “Saying our post-war morning prayers”
2021-02-23