Moving Day
Men come marching
down the path,
Clear intent upon
their faces.
They don’t give me a
passing glance,
As one by one they shift
the packing cases.
Mum and Dad don’t
seem to mind,
And make no move to
halt the flow.
I can’t bear to see
them take our things,
And wonder where
we’re all supposed to go.
Are we being thrown
out upon the street?
And do the
neighbours think it’s so?
Or is there more to
this than meets the eye,
Another reason that
we must go?
Mum says they’ve
found another house,
Not far from here, and
already signed,
But I don’t want to
go from here,
Nor leave my
play-mates far behind.
She says it will be
better there,
A bigger garden,
more room to play,
I’ll make new
friends along The Avenue,
And soon forget
those down our alley-way.
Young boys need
space to breathe,
And says all this to
calm my fears.
She smiles at my
confusion,
And wipes away my
floods of tears.
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