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by Ian Curtress

Who would have dreamed of the horror this year would sadly bring
When we were anticipating the joy which comes with every Spring
A change in lives forever, a challenge to our creed
But we have overcome before. Once called This Happy Breed
A test of honest values, in recent years allowed to slip
Sense of care devalued, selfishness obtained a grip
But the core of British fairness has surfaced as before
Helping others, forgetting self. How we survived the war
We never understood the loss of life, then, no more than now
Every loss seemed personal, constant furrowed brow
The helplessness is numbing, the anger underneath
All we can do is by kindness hope to share their grief
At least we could take solace then, in each other’s arms
We had no inhibitions. Showed feelings without qualms
There was always someone close on hand to give heart strings a gentle tug
Who noticed you were struggling and gave that reassuring hug
But now for so many, rules apply, six feet a world apart
Little time remains, to heal an aching heart.
We long for that touch which makes our spirits lift
No words describe such happiness
No price on such a gift.