Seven Men
By Kevin Lawry

They are gone.
 
Their uniforms, hats,
Radio sets and flasks of tea.
The extra warm socks from Mum,
The silk ‘chute in its stowage,
Scattered across the land
  And sea.
 
They are gone.
 
Lost with their Stirling,
Halifax or Lanc.
Each an engineering wonder
Of the day.
Now, a thousand bits and pieces
Of scrap: undercarriage legs,
Throttles, RPM levers and instruments
Strewn across the bay.
 
They are gone.
 
Some knew nothing,
In an instant blown to
Dark fragments in the night.
Others struggled with
Feathered props and
Burning wing;
Knew the increasingly futile fight
To save the thing.
’ Til down the dark spiral
They go.
Seven men,
Seven men lost long ago.

Written by Kevin after an inspiring visit to the Bomber Command Memorial in London.