Raging Look
Was a young man once,
This last cold, raging look,
The boy with freedom in his arms,
A mother smiling at fearless son,
The Green oasis in petrol blue,
Traffic growl smothered by laughter,
Eager heart pounding, energetic,
Despair lies in oak tree shadow,
Brazen sun dancing in delight,
Agony concealed; the boy lived
as train over bridge clattered,
As the toy shop bade welcome,
And the chef with the knife
sliced ham delicate-thin -
Welcome to the parlour;
Mother was love and love is,
Hid tears of impending farewell,
Until it was all too late;
The Green is still the Green,
The boy has paid the price of years.
© Michael Garrad February 2011
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