The Picture Window – Celia Robinson

Would it still be there, the picture window?

Overlooking the lake as it always had.

Where we as children once played

Building castles in imported sand;

Boating in the bay and – sometimes

Swimming out to Turtle Island.

 

The picture in my mind remains.

Four children, at home, marching in WW2

Bearing our national flags, the Union Jack and Uncle Sam.

Far from the scene of war,

On which the window cannot look

There is no picture window now.                                    

 

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