Heavy boots on the stairs and a stranger’s voice,
then hearing my Mummy say ‘Harry, wake the boys’.
Blinking from our sleep as the big light is turned on,
‘Get up boys, quickly now, downstairs and put your shoes and coat on’.
A policeman stands at the front door, it’s raining outside, a fine mizzle,
the night sky looks cold as it looms through the open door and the moonlight reflects on the policeman’s pistol.
There is fear in the voices of the adults and their agitated movements,
and then we are outside running across the wet slippery pavements.
Beams of light cast their gaze from high above down toward the ground,
voices shouting, orders barked, a turbulent, frightening cacophony of sounds.
We blindly bundle into a friend’s house just down the way,
us children are gathered on the settee and told to get on and play.
The only thing on TV is the cue card with the girl and the clown,
adults are talking in hushed tones in the kitchen, occasionally shouting, ‘Would you wains settle down’.
A muffled bang sounds outside, dogs howl and bark,
everyone stops and listens and outside the daylight seeps through the dark.
Walking home there is shattered glass and twisted metal on the ground cloaked in acrid black smoke,
We are hurried past to the safety of our house and not a word is spoke.