Minstrel Boys
Two boys, one aged 3 and the other 12, were killed by an IRA bomb in Warrington in March 1993
To the wars, with swords ungirt, with harps unslung, (All the sweet, silly garbage of the young, Their football boots, their Michael Jackson tapes), They have gone, and some were prods and some were papes And some were beautiful and some were clever, Less than their mums and dads had hoped, still more Than dreams are made on, feckless boys, forever Freeze-framed behind each bolted bedroom door.
A scattering universe revolves up there; The old man muttering to empty air His music of the spheres, white radio noise. Down here it rains; spawn bubbles in a ditch, Springtime breaks out across a football pitch. Goodnight. Goodnight. Sleep tight, sweet minstrel boys.
John Whitworth
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