
On my way to Balham High Street
I stood with my back to Barclays Bank
Opposite the train station
In the middle, the public toilets.
The light changed colour, darker than usual
The air stopped as if sucked by a vacuum
Sound muffled, something told me to run
Behind me, came a loud bang.
The bus turning where I had stood moments before
Vanished into the hole that once was the public toilet
One of Hitlers bombs had dropped.
Had my life been spared by a whisper inside my head?
Later that week, I found a library article
With a photo of a bus tipped into a hole
Whose footsteps had I been standing in?
©anitadawes 2020
Cool poem, Anita. So dreamlike and strange.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The poem made my blood run cold for a few seconds…Thanks Anita. x
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sorry about that, but you’re very welcome!
LikeLike