ASYLUM SEEKERS

by
 When Blunkett starts to talk like Enoch Powell

I think of Harold Wilson’s statue in Huddersfield Station

Caught striding forward, gripping his pipe in his pocket,

Hair blowing in the wind.
could we but turn that bronze To flesh I would have asked him to meet the two Asylum-seekers I met in Huddersfield’s main street And asked directions from.
"We are Iranian refugees", They stammered apologetically.
"Then welcome to this country.
" I said as we shook hands, their smiles like the sun.

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