Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Helen brought me small round stones for my catapult from the bomb site off Meadow Row. She brought them captured in her small pink hands. Can I try your catapult? She asked. Sure you can I replied handing her the weapon and showing how to load and shoot. She aimed along her   narrow arm and the Y at the end and let go and watched the stone whizz away fly past a tin can and disappear amongst debris and weeds. Try again I said. She tried again and missed the can but almost winged a pigeon in its flight. On her final attempt she missed the can and pigeon and hit nothing but infinity.
0
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC
Helen and Catapult 1955.
Helen brought me small round stones for my catapult from the bomb site off Meadow Row. She brought them captured in her small pink hands. Can I try your catapult? She asked. Sure you can I replied handing her the weapon and showing how to load and shoot. She aimed along her   narrow arm and the Y at the end and let go and watched the stone whizz away fly past a tin can and disappear amongst debris and weeds. Try again I said. She tried again and missed the can but almost winged a pigeon in its flight. On her final attempt she missed the can and pigeon and hit nothing but infinity.
Kids in London 1955.
TerryCollett
Written by
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem