The verdict of all is guilty And the sentence is death. Grieving friends and relatives gather, Mouthing useless platitudes. Didn't she look lovely in the coffin. Someone said to nobody in particular. Nodding heads greeted this observation.
Nimble fingers make more sandwiches - Just in case, And the laden sideboard creaks in protest.
The house is awash with cups of tea. The swollen river rushes in a frenzy Between rows of terraced stone houses, Huddled together against the elements. Soon a trickle of water laps over the bank And creeps relentlessly across the road, Inching nearer the sandbagged doorways. Then, glorying in its destructive power, The fickle river seeps around and under these puny barricades. The slumbering city stirs uneasily.