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The living room remembers Gran dancing to Count Bessie.The kitchen can still hear my aunts fighting on Christmas Day.The hall is worried about the loose banister.
In our flatfaces speakof places across the sea.
In our flatvoices walk intalking, but not like me.
Behind youWindrush childpalm trees wave goodbye
above youWindrush childseabirds asking why
around youWindrush childblue water rolling by