"Sunshine and Bombs" we called her.
My dad it was who coined the name.
She kept the corner shop.
Early morning, first part of the war
Dad coming home from fire watch
and she cornered him. About
the weather, of all things. Said
how she'd rather have the bombs
than "all this bloody sunshine".
I spread it round the school.
"Sunshine and bombs," we sang,
"Sunshine and bombs!"
Payback time that was, for her
refusing me my bag of Frog Spawn -
which I had paid for, I might add.
"Too late," she'd hissed. "It's half
day closing - now git out!"
Sunshine and Bombs, that was,
who sadly in her turn was bombed
much later in the war.
I am linking this poem to Open Link Monday at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
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