In a London Park During Wartime/2004

In an oasis
Green with fragility
In the cross-fire of children shouting
An old man
His long coat weighing down
His hands held tight and still behind his back
Drifts by my bench. And as he turns
In the late-day flaring, he seems to glow
Like a comet, trailing a frozen gaze
And an image
Of a young man in khaki
Who seems to hug the earth
From his choirboy mouth, soft amber sand,
Emptying like an hour-glass.