Future

Recession inspired poetry.

We were celtic tiger babies,
our buggies bought with bonuses
our toys, SSIA'S
Now I sit, counting coppers
an inherited strain of memories erupting
Dripping sandwiches and hand-me-downs
funding, fees and fraudulence,
taxes and tarrifs.
With twiddling, twitching thumbs, my heart beats faster,
not for the sake of grand college campuses
or debts and bankers and the dole,
the thudding thunders through my ears
for the house that we might buy
and the children we might have
The light, the heat, the groceries,
limescale build up, airless tyres
the mundane mix of everyday cares that awaits
every couple naive enough to hope for more.
an aging morning sunbeam is all I need
Casting a across the sleepy mundane life
to illuminate your face-forever mine.