A pure white poem and empty shops
I asked a dog-walker for the short cut
to the local centre shop.
She told me 'Walk to the village green
then turn right. A skip and a hop.'
'Thank you' I said, unknowingly
that the village green WASN'T green..
Everything was blanketed in a coat of snow,
it was WHITE where the green had been!
I followed the tracks and got to the shop
where crowds were milling about lost.
The bread and eggs they were looking for
could not be bought at any cost.
The shelves were bare, reminded me
of reports I'd seen on the telly.
Thirds World countries, very little food,
youngsters with hunger-swollen bellies.
Ah well, it's pasta for me tonight
and tomorrow again, no doubt.
Those tomatoes in cans will be useful and, I expect,
the tin of beans will eke it out.
Francesca Johnson's Other Poems
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