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