Our Flat by Michael Rosen

Nov 03, 08:54 PM
C

In our flat

faces speak

of places across the sea.

In our flat

voices walk in

talking, but not like me.

In our flat

books fly around us

saying, ‘Never stop saying “Why?”’.

In our flat

stories stroke us

until we cry.

In our flat,

there was a mother and father

who were born so poor

they told us:

even if we now have more

no one is worse than you;

things could be fair

if we learned how to share,

and they sang a sweet song

that said war is wrong.

Find out what’s possible, they said.

Find out what’s possible.

Find out what’s possible, they said.

Find out what’s possible.

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