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| A balm of childhood |
Shape of a rocket trapped voices from air,
Earphone plugged in the ear off the pillow,
Clip on the sash for the signal just local,
The window we'd climb through to make our escape
Open warm nights, breathing the mist,
Watching slow taillights fade into the hollow,
The fog in white veils spread over the marsh,
Wrapped in The Gunner's warm chatter,
Unable to hear, 'til the quiet of morning,
The shattering glass and the pleading
For the shot of the ball on the bat and the cheering.
