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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Apocalypse The throb of heavy engines rises swiftly to a roar, The brakes released; the asphalt strip unwinds, Airborne - she passes low above the surf along the shore, The island's runway quickly drops behind. The bomber claws for altitude beneath the star-strewn sky Her name will bring a chill in years ahead, And whether it was right or wrong the world will wonder why And the weapon's name will be intoned with dread. Some fifteen hundred miles north-west the history books await On that monday morning back in forty-five Seventy thousand victims, unsuspecting of their fate Wait unknowing for extinction to arrive. And forty thousand feet above, a mere speck in the sky Enola Gay, on final; starts her run, The bomb bay doors deliver their dire cargo from on high And the day will shortly see a second sun. A city bathed in sunshine waits unknowing for its doom As its citizens began their final day And at 8: 15 that morning saw the deadly flower bloom And the heartland of a city swept away! And thousands of the innocent, before their time to die; The young, the old, the babes at mothers breast... As the mushroom cloud expanding hurtled headlong for the sky Were vaporized along with all the rest. In the heart of Hiroshima is one building that still stands With its rafters gaping open to the sky, And it stands as a reminder of the folly that is man's And all the world will always wonder why. 8: 15am Monday, August 6 1945. o0o >>> Hiroshima is gone.<<< Frank Halliwell
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