Winning Poem

World War 2

Crouching in the Anderson Shelter
Watching our house collapse
A fire flickers in the moonlight
What a horrible thing war is.

Clutching my hated gas mask
As the train enters Devon
Little Perkins lives no more
What a horrible thing war is.

Sitting in the Town Hall
Being chosen like animals
Gazing at my new home
What a horrible thing war is.

Numerous outfits are long gone
Appetites are getting smaller
Dear Mr Jenkins was shot down
What a horrible thing war is.

Years go by and the war never stops
High-flying hopes are falling
Though the death-rates clamber on higher
What a horrible thing war is.

Smiles creep over Britain’s faces
As the news of Victory spreads
Now grown-up children run into their mother’s arms
What a horrible thing war is.