The world is changed,

The world is changed,

Everything improved

From this comfortable seat,

A garden chair on a balcony

With the sun fighting to regain control

Over the sky

The moon, keeping a watching brief,

Barely visible in daylight.

I remember debating ethics on a

Cushion of soft grass

Overlooking the city,

Parliament Hill fields stretching out below

A running track where we would train

Back in the olden days when children

Were kids.

What happened to that feeling

All young people have

That they will change the world

Be the first generation ever to really care

About the future.

To stand up against the man

Glue themselves to railings

Get trampled by a horse

In a race to replace privilege

With suffrage

Give themselves to god

Make end-of-the-world pacts

With aspiring cult leaders and demagogues

For a while, it was all about the bomb

Nuclear destruction

Agent Orange

Reds under the bed

State interference in other countries

As if that was ever a new thing,

Who threw the first stone

Daubed paint on the first cave wall

Without using a stencil

Shouted ‘free Nelson Mandela”

Before it became a slogan.

I heard a woman say to someone on a phone

That she was afraid to go home

As they had no power

And the walls were damp

“And he always blames it on me”

I wanted to take her home

Just to keep her safe

But I was afraid to get involved

Is that how the story now goes

When growing up means becoming

More self-protective

With nothing changing, overnight

Do we creep forward slowly

Is it too slow?

Will we get to where we need to be

Eventually.

Do destinations move further away

Goalposts keep changing

Or are they just cut down to size

To suit the nature of the game

Will young people feel the same

As they get older

Does the stomach for the fight

Disappear with the second glass

Of Chardonnay

The caviar and canape

The mortgage and the kids.