Rosemary Purse

YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE

We rocked along
while
the soldiers sang
you are my sunshine
accompanied by
the mouth organs
and squeeze-box accordions
I’ve not seen the like of
since the cows
and green grass
raced by into
the busy city street
and the bleat
of the sheep
was lost
while all through it all
the mohair shawl
caught a ride
on the sand-paper serge
of the battledress jacket
with the packet
of smokes on one
who passed through
from the hall
on the other side
of the carriage door
we saw
oranges
bananas
and more
home
they’re home
from the war
I was four