Our Flat by Michael Rosen
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.