The youngest cruises along Ham Road, revving his sports car
Down the cobble, startling the ducks in the brush.
Tinted windows hide the boy who used to drag a stick
Against the scaffolding, and hop-scotched his way along the tracks.
The eldest appears in church, tanned and pedicured. Her thick, silver
Bangles rattle as she yawns at the back, loudly kneading a wad of gum.
She stares through her sunglasses, one eye on the clock,
The other on her phone, dashing thumbs on the screen.
I found the mother marvelling the rich tea biscuits, the ones
Coated in milk chocolate. I hope she takes them home, scatters them
On an old plate, patterned with flowers and bramble, and watches
Television with her feet up, knowing nothing has to change.