Friday, 18 December 2020

Vaccines (or what happens without them)

 Vaccines (or what happens without them)


The drizzle sits as bleakly suspended mist

on a backdrop of grim skies and damp, grey stones

where forgotten names begin to erode;

memories reduced to blank slate and rust.


The howling wind echoes the wailing ghosts

of mothers who mournfully trace each etched word

and sorrowfully watch as the wretched world

so quickly forgets the many children lost:


consumed and taken, snatched in a fleeting youth,

so commonly before what now is so rare.

To succumb, after all that, so unfair

to the victim who deserved, merely, the truth.






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