Between The Wars (Charleston 1937) (Bonus)
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Take the train, down Friday next
In summer hat, and linen dress
Hail a taxi, at the station
There will be artichokes, and cabbages
Sweet honeycombs, and radishes
To feed, your grateful nation
Bring paper, easel, pen, and ink
To set up, on the lawn
Where summer mornings, brim with light
And evenings, filled with birdsong
Between the wars
Ginger cakes, are served with tea
Lovers, orbit endlessly
And your children, march like soldiers
Their nets, for catching butterflies
Fill up with wind, and sit up high
Like rifles, at their shoulders
This is where, you fled the world
This is where, you gather
Take up, take up, your skirts and twirl
Angels, through the asters
Between the wars
A telegram, arrives from Spain
The earth, falls off its axis
Grief hands down, a kind of pain
You can't prepare, or practice
You paint the tables, paint the walls
The mantles, mirrors, lamps and halls
Paint every, single, surface
No corner here, will go untouched
By loss and love, and by your brush
Such emptiness, is worthless
There are no ghosts, except the ones
Leaving us behind
We wave and shout, come back, come back
Frozen now, in time
Between the wars