evacuee life

I want to paint –  my mum’s sadness crawling into my heart leaving tears on my mum’s face, sirens wailing like a baby in agony and clouds like raging lions.


I want to paint – the smell of acrid smoke swifting in the air from the steam trains, the steam from the train hissing like a torturous snake burning my lungs and the soldiers standing as if they were statues waiting for the attacking to start.


I want to paint – the taste of the ticklish tears running down my cheek, the sun crying like being left out, the Germans coming towards our country.


I want to paint – The end of this poem

No comments yet.

Please leave a comment. Remember, say something positive; ask a question; suggest an improvement.

%d bloggers like this: