This is not a Rehearsal!

a poem by tobias kerins, UK

From China it started, round the world it darted
A trail of death, left behind
Infection was here, it had no fear
Ruthless, and so unkind

It grew and it spread, filled the world with dread
With pace, no borders it knew
Neither colour nor creed, just human breed
It rested, and that's where it grew

Doctors they spoke, their health it broke
A vaccine, it must be found
Social distance, became an insistence
The streets, they had no sound

Some they chose, to ignore the close
And continued, to mix and blend
With no surprise, infection did rise
John O'Groats, down to Land's End

Italian Rome, St Peter the dome
For Europe, the hardest of all
Like a thrusting dagger, with an upward stagger
The death toll, refused to fall

The pubs all shut, not an if or but
Last supper, at restaurants was served
Police patrolled, and the Army enrolled
Order, it must be preserved

In Madrid in Spain, where the matador reign
No red rag, was thrown at the bull
With hospitals ravaged, the virus it savaged
Like a magnet, death was its pull

But between the lines, they saw the signs
Where all must march, as one
This is no rehearsal, there must be reversal
We cannot, be overrun

With all locked down, in every town
The streets, were barren and clear
If people ignore, they knew the score
The police or army, are near

One chance is given, so always be driven
For another, may not come along
No second bites, just sleepless nights
The virus, can be so strong

This lesson we must, be it win or bust
All follow, commit to learn
It's the only way, we will have our say
And the virus, cast to burn

But let's not forget, the final set
Of rules, we must obey
The helpers who, through black and blue
Helped us, to reach this day

From doctors and nurses, to charity purses
They strove, and help did wield
With challenges ridden, all else was forbidden
Hid not, behind a shield

The energy workers, they were no shirkers
The national grid, it quivered
The lorry drivers, our road survivors
Ensured, the food delivered

The dustmen proved, the rubbish removed
Public health, in a different form
Shop workers and shelves, like nighttime elves
Small miracles, did perform

The army and police, they did not cease
In their efforts, to keep us right
The virus it came, it had no shame
Just who, would win this fight

At this time of writing, we are still fighting
The answer, we don't yet know
There may have been flaws, but stay indoors
This could be, our cameo

You have no choice, listen to the voice
Of the experts, the scientists
The same hymn sheet sing, and success bring
And defeat the darkest, of mists

Attack the Vulnerable for Greed (in the words of the birds)
The Maltese Falcon Vol IX
The Nightingales of Berkeley Square

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