Recurring Dream 1940

Recurring Dream 1940

The dream repeats again tonight,

with eerie choice to make,

the basement with its fearful gloom,

or stairs up to my fate.

I feel the bombs all come to mind,

see their demolition,

out of the house my chances best,

urged by intuition.

I climb the rubble to the door,

see familiar sight,

streets are covered with piles of bricks,

and ash all grey and white.

We’re in between the Gerry raids,

and bombs dropped from the sky,

the town all out to clean the mess,

without a how or why.

The dream now shows a different scene,

a bomb wedged in so tight,

right in front of the cellar door,

where I just spent the night.

My eyes then open in a stare,

and hear the distant towns,

that dreadful hum up in the air,

of planes and air raid sounds.

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