London bombed

                         I tried to write some words

                         the pen ran dry

                         I held the paper fiercely

                         but it slipped away

                         I turned to carving stone

                         my knuckles white

                         the chisel blunted

                         with no scratch in sight.

                         now I can find no path

                         but this empty epitaph.

                         Liz Callingham

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