Nineteen Fifty-Three

Those early years lingered, thin and long,

as hunger whispered to us, its taunting song

filling our larders with hollow sound,

ration-book thin and flimsily bound. 

The ghost of war, a fading stain, had left

our nation empty and lean, with the pain

of our dreams measured by that meagre

grain that had long sustained our regime.

Then came the day, the second of June,

when we awakened to such celebratory 

tune that banners unfurled, brightening our

weary, but now colour splashed world.

Above the worn streets, the bunting swayed,

as our tables were carried out and laid with

a feast that resembled a dream, a pooling

of resources for the crowning of a Queen.

Potted meat and strawberry jam tempted eager

plate, then cream filled cake to fascinate the

senses, a cornucopia designed to assuage,

a joyous introduction to an Elizabethan age.

The unity of neighbours brought gleeful esprit

to a glimpse of the life we had longed to see.

The excess was heady, a beautiful weight,    

a banquet of promise gracing cardboard plate.

Audio:

https://www.icloud.com/iclouddrive/01bzvAjKKDkxlfrtHuGjEtJXQ#1953

https://on.soundcloud.com/o97D3FEE9kQEkJaonu