The Old Metal Rover’s Biscuit Tin

The  Old Metal Rover’s Biscuit Tin

The Old Metal Rover’s biscuit tin

sat untouched in our loft,

loose‑lidded,

just rolls and rolls of money.

The police raid.

The police confiscated it —

robbery.

The river.

The row boat.

The bad man and his son.

My family the collateral.

Footnote:

Sometimes I wonder if it was just the single mum and her poor kids they used to hide the money.

We were poor.

We did not have a lot.

We were the perfect place to hide money.

The eggs‑and‑cheese‑sauce era —

and here’s the irony:

four children and a divorced mum would have loved a tin of biscuits,

let alone a tin full of money.