Dunkirk
~ When allies falter from his Blitzkrieg force,
the blood of British sons infuse the sand.
They pray their brothers front the Channel’s course
for they have failed to gain the upper hand.
And, so they wait as consequences ride
upon a horse the devil painted red.
They watch in angst as hope and hell collide
thus, knowing not if promise lies ahead.
But desperation ferries through the wind
as urgent prayers befall a patron’s ear.
Your British proud shall bring them home again
on any vessel faith can commandeer.
The second seal released him at your door
but hope abides along the Dunkirk shore.
Book III - This War of Sons
Chapter 3, “France”
Sonnet 11
Copyright © Mark Massey | Year Posted 2024
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