Urban Child - Diane Scantlebury

I played in the streets of London
An urban child in a happy place,
Where houses were tall
With linoleum floors and dank basements,
And racism could hide its ugly face,

On sunny days after school
We’d skip and hop over pavement cracks,
While the landlady polished the door,
Waiting for dad to ride home on his bike
I was unaware then that we were poor,

Every Saturday there’d be a wedding or a dance,
Mum in her stilettos
Dad in his starched, white shirt and shiny suit,
Blue beat and calypso music
Would spill out into the inky night,
They’d celebrate
But long for their Caribbean roots,

With the luxury of innocence
I can look back on my early London days,
Invited to work, but not welcome
It must’ve been hard for dad and mum,
To keep my life full of love and laughter,
While they toiled hard
To escape from the slum,

For what they achieved I’m grateful
And will be eternally glad,
For isn’t it the dream and hope
Of our immigrant parents to give their children,
A better chance in life
Than they’d had?

Diane Scantlebury