The skies broke while we slept,
And covered streets a blackened sheen;
The wind is pushing silent walls
Of rain that soaks my shoes and jeans.
The parents hold their children’s hands
With hoods up and heads down;
They force their way into school
With sopping, frowning, wisened brows.
I carry on, despite it all,
With my umbrella tightened cold
Against the mundane chill of wind;
The metal arms, that shield me, bend.
by Harry Husbands