Polly

Writings and Witterings

Gracie Waits

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At the station Gracie waits
Not the first of her regular dates
The blue light glowers
The sergeant towers
Behind the desk
There’s an arrest
They book him in
No hair on chin
What’s he done?
Someone’s son.
Why at this small age
Is he centre stage?
Who can help him now?
His name is noted
His future mapped
For a moment’s lapse
At the station Gracie waits
Not the first of her regular dates

Polly Robinson © 2011

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