On the day the torch came to town
we turned out to cheer, in the afternoon sun,
as Samsung and Coca-Cola wagon-rolled by.
Our moment to shine,
waving plastic Union Flags and
smartphones raised in fumbled salute
to the guardians of the flame
heading back across the border.
Town of two halves, pulled from the marsh,
the undisciplined Dee, three centuries have
quietly flowed by, now the clamour
of circus parade has us in a gaggle
by the roadside. When it comes
the torch underwhelms: propane cone
out-flared by the sun in a
hands-free wheelchair relay.
Money shot moment to shine.
Fluffer of the flame, a camera truck
piques the nation's desire as the convoy
sweeps by and our moment passes
to others down the road,
who crane and jostle as we fold
up our chairs and amble back home
to catch it all again in surround sound HD.
Now racked on a shelf, that Zeus-dappled day
has its best china moments to shine,
for that was the day the torch came to town
and a boy who laps it all
blew out candles on a cake:
eight mini flames that were borne
through streets and lanes we had cupped
in our hands as if medals of gold.