Once upon
a Birmingham day, St Andrew’s
called the three of us together,
my Grandfather’s hand on one side
my father’s on the other,
two larger than life men
and a child, barely able to reason,
once upon a Birmingham day,
I peered through the gap
created by the outline stance
of two men and saw a game commence,
squeezed and pushed
with the flow of rhetoric,
community singing and language
unheard even in the finest
of hours, the colours,
displayed, rejoiced, groaned at