Tis a Pity

To all those British tourists

On the Greek island of Kos

Who felt their holidays ruined

By the sight of impoverished refugees

Sleeping rough in the streets

Begging for food

Please accept our apologies

For reality intruding on your time away

Tis a pity

That we can’t live in a world

Where our vision

Where our senses

Are not disturbed

By men, women and children

Uprooted, no present, no future

Again, we’re sorry that annoyed you

The enlightened among us

Will now be saddened, dismayed

By the British tourists on Kos

But what is the difference

Between them

And those of us who do nothing

For those who sleep in the doorways of tavernas

And watch their children grow weaker

R�(��`g