These faded flags, hang limp and tattered,
Shrouds of a spiteful spectres’ howl.
Ironically red, white and blue
Become as one, sun burnt and drained.
Their dream has passed, I pray, perhaps
A better Britain born. Let them
Be left, forlorn like silenced statues,
Their rage replaced with greater grace.

The avenues of Union Flags, once proud, now seem forgotten and apologetic in the breeze.
(28.10.26)

© Ben Quant 2026