The Bombers no longer drone

The Bombers no longer drone

We stand under clear skies on a November morn

but this has not always been the case.

As we look upon the cenotaph with its names

the sound and drone of enemy bombers returns.

Nights spent in air raid shelters cowering with fear,

have given way to days of tranquility and normality.

The screams of falling bombs the crescendo of falling masonary.

have receeded into the past but stark memories remain.

We are haunted by the sound of sirens,

the sobbing of grief stricken neighbours.

The cenotaph is all that is left to remind us

names on a cold stone face of grey granite.

It is all now the property of the past, a distant memory,

but what was it all for?

For what did we endure such suffering and trauma?

Crazed dictators and their demented ambitions.

And behold these people are still with us,

what does the future hold for our children?