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Poems

Growing Up

18 July 2015

9:00 AM

18 July 2015

9:00 AM

This morning, as I commuted through Hendon Central,
I remembered you telling me you saw
that day’s newspaper there on a board,
announcing the king had died, how life stalled
for a moment. This evening I got the call
I’d long dreaded, telling me you were dead.
‘We are not a grandchild,’ Thatcher might have said.





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