Thursday, January 16

A Poem for Thursday..."The loss".

We thought
That maybe we had lost her
On the day
They blew up the BBC building
In the middle of the city.
Her office
With it's ancient glass roof
Abutted the back wall.
Saving the Company
A need
To make her office more substantial.
She never complained.
She was a lady who lunches.
And so it was on that day.
Though no thanks to the army
Who didn't like to make their way
Down the darkened alley
Into her lonely room.
Only the jolly aunt called
Before the detonator blew it all up
And gave her the..."Let's go Mary".

We thought
That maybe we had lost him
On the day
They targeted children
Near MacDonalds on Bridge Street.
He was selling his cheery mugs
And all those other titles in between,
Hawking his wares
In the shopping mall.
But the second bomb was at Boots
Where the children had run for safety.
So it missed him.
And he
Jolly as ever,
Found solace in the Town Hall
Where his son discovered him later.
And with northern canniness
Shrugged and said
"Glad you're safe dad".