The handmade dog

After all the wars,love still endures
Grace comes through the cracks, grace is the cure
Babies born in tents  on wet cold ground
Eerie  through the trees comes labour’s sound

But grace, like rain, needs openness and care
How can these refugees  bear children  here?
We enclose ourselves  in  fictive webs
Netflix,Prime , the BBC, the bed

We do not want to see the sky and stars
Downing gin and cocaine in the bar
We have  plastic lawns and paper flowers
From the   handmade dog to City Towers

There is a door but who can spot it now?
No poverty,no chastity no now

I welcome comments and criticism

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