The Neighbours Children

The only time they raised their voices
was when reciting times tables.

Their mouths sparkled, clean as soap,
although they’d never tasted it.

They knew what P’s and Q’s meant,
and never had to ask what the Q stood for.

The girls spent their days skipping through flowers,
and their brothers close enough behind to pick them up.

Their mother preserved fruit
later to be arranged in alphabetical order.

They laughed so hard at their fathers jokes,
but of course the younger ones never
wet themselves.

They lived just over the hill,
in a world of smiles, laughter
and strictly regulated sweets.

How can we compete with that?