There are those sounds heard in the fog
That to my mind do give a jog
Returning me to the high cliffs
O’erlooking down upon the ships
When youth did rule my growing years
As World War Two increased my fears.
I heard the buoys’ bells awake
Midst all the noises shipyards make
The fog was thick, the air intense
While all around signs of defense.
It was that time too many knew
When all our hopes seemed overdue
Though in the end our loss was great
Peace came at last and not too late !
Claire V. Bogdanos 