The Charred Cross

That winter's night the sky did glow A flaming amber 'neath the stars, As the city blazed the bombs lit up The old cathedral spire, Wave after endless wave they came The whining drones the sounds from hell, That echoed through the searchlights And the anti-aircraft fire. The city folk were helpless As they saw their homes and streets destroyed, The factories and the workshops One by one were wiped away, They watched as the cathedral burned And saw its mighty roof collapse, That smouldered through the morning In the cold light of the day. As the city lay in ruins And the fallen bricks did fill the streets, There was a sense of disbelief So pitiful the sight, The stench of death did linger through That still and hushed November air, Five hundred lives or more they said Were lost upon that night. As years did pass the city grew And rose again from fire and flame, Yet no one shall forget that time Engrained for evermore, Within the hearts of young and old For made from charred and fallen beams, A cross stands on the altar now To show the cost of war. (In memory of those killed during the Coventry air raid on the night of 14th November 1940.)