Freedom
A Dove
of peace sat at the top of our tree
(an old
dying Conifer) so pretty and carefree
While a
Spitfire flew over, jolting us to a reality
On the seventy-fifth anniversary of VE.
There
are so many that fought their way
To a
better life every day.
We can
only imagine and visualise
And try
to see through their eyes.
The
Dove of peace now flown away
Like
the Spitfire, for another day.
And our
heroes live out their final years,
We'll
dance and sing and you'll hear our cheers.
Out in
the streets, people party and sing
While
keeping to social distancing
And
like the eighth of May nineteen forty-five
The day
of freedom finally arrived.
The
Union Jack flapped in the wind
Though
some of us are out on a limb
Not
knowing what else the wind will bring
Not
knowing whether to sink or swim.
We've
found ourselves in our own war,
Invisible,
minute, people killed by the score.
The
Dove of peace looked down from our old tree
With
knowledge and hindsight, her world now free.
Copyright
Linda Lawrence
8th
May 2020
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