Herself and himself

They're driving in
from the cricketing fields of Dublin
past the Five Lamps, Empress Lane
and the Corner of the Talkers
where you'll still get wind
of the bombing of the North Strand
in a war we were no part of
or so we thought. It isn't always
we know what wars we're in.
There's shopping to be done,
young mouths waiting for baker's bread.
She knows the shops, the men and women
behind the counters. She knows himself too.
On a tough journey, a few words will do
to ensure the future will be fed.
She does the shops, gets what she wants,
they have two creamy pints together
then hit for home
between the worked fields and the sea,
herself and himself
words and silence
peace and war
you and me.