The baskets hang there forlorn and forgotten
Waiting for those who will never again come
Forgotten shavers and dried cakes of soap
Never again to do that which they had done
So many years ago when voices rang
And stinging water flowed
Washing away the dark grit
Of countless days in the mines
The men are gone and no longer
Is there the cacophony of voices
In all the languages of the world
Swirling above the benches and lockers
Only the silent baskets remained
To remind us of the men
Who once used them
Now even the shower house is gone
Nothing remains to tell us
Of what was once there
Of the countless hours
Spent underground by countless men
Ruining their health to keep the fires burning.
No comments:
Post a Comment