Downstairs she
can hear their voices.
They are frequently rowing.
She stares out the window
at the countryside
below and beyond.
Far from home.
Her mother is in London
and her father in the army
fighting Rommel
in North Africa.
Her sister is working
in the munition factory
long hours
and living at home.
They didn't want
to take her at the village hall
but each had to do
their bit the woman
told them with the evacuees.
The room is cold
and the bed uncomfortable.
The man's wife
is partially deaf
hence the shouting
and bellowing.
He came up last night
while his wife
was downstairs
and touched her.
Her mother would
not have allow that.
But her mother
is far away
and what can she say
and who would believe
she muses hiding
beneath her nightgown
the bruises.
A door slams.
She watches the man
walk towards the farm.
The morning sun
is high above the trees.
Once he has gone
it is safe to get breakfast.
She goes downstairs
to the kitchen.
The woman is
sorting washing.
She stands
at the kitchen door.
The woman stares at her
and gestures for her
to come in.
She sits
at the large table.
The woman spoons out
lumpy porridge in a bowl
and gives her a spoon.
A mug of tea
is put beside the bowl.
The woman says nothing
but carries on
with her task.
The girl spoons in
the porridge
which is warm.
Her mother
is in London
far away.
Another beginning
of another day.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Downstairs she
can hear their voices.
They are frequently rowing.
She stares out the window
at the countryside
below and beyond.
Far from home.
Her mother is in London
and her father in the army
fighting Rommel
in North Africa.
Her sister is working
in the munition factory
long hours
and living at home.
They didn't want
to take her at the village hall
but each had to do
their bit the woman
told them with the evacuees.
The room is cold
and the bed uncomfortable.
The man's wife
is partially deaf
hence the shouting
and bellowing.
He came up last night
while his wife
was downstairs
and touched her.
Her mother would
not have allow that.
But her mother
is far away
and what can she say
and who would believe
she muses hiding
beneath her nightgown
the bruises.
A door slams.
She watches the man
walk towards the farm.
The morning sun
is high above the trees.
Once he has gone
it is safe to get breakfast.
She goes downstairs
to the kitchen.
The woman is
sorting washing.
She stands
at the kitchen door.
The woman stares at her
and gestures for her
to come in.
She sits
at the large table.
The woman spoons out
lumpy porridge in a bowl
and gives her a spoon.
A mug of tea
is put beside the bowl.
The woman says nothing
but carries on
with her task.
The girl spoons in
the porridge
which is warm.
Her mother
is in London
far away.
Another beginning
of another day.
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