Is it too late for yesterday?
A reel of memories on replay;
The Lions roar turned out the lights
Casting the day into the night
Hiding under the Chelsea Bridge
Haunted by the London Blitz
Smoke stings her weathered grey skin
A mighty war she was breathing in
Fightin’ them for bread and water
A small bereft southern daughter
Blasted out of her rub-a-dub
Just her and her little cub.
What happens when tomorrow comes
Will she be cast back into the slums
collateral damage of this time
where being poor was a crime.
The photos linger in the past
But the stigma will always last
Just a shot of another place
Another time in another space.