Run from the war

Run from the bombs

Leave this crumbling shelter,

For men have died here years ago.

Two men then and us two now,

My brother and I.

Where is help?

Where is the exit?

Down the tunnels of crumbling bricks

Saturated sky and charred earth kicks

Away

Into the carriage we leap.

Down the London city streets we seek

Who is open to us?

Where are the people?

Woman and child, man and wife

Boarded up windows keep us out

But we are not enemies,

Only men.

And my hair falls in my hands

My body fails.

Brother takes my hand and helps me down

Into the street

My weak but childish legs step

Reality is cold, but sweet to kiss

A window is open to one shop

One shop only

And no others.

The friendly man sells wigs to wear,

Made carefully of human hair.