You forgot if it was day or night <br />until you breathed the blitz-burnt air <br />outside at watch's end. <br />Weather, seasons, all the same, <br />duty was duty, <br />you grinned and bore it, <br />and kept on pushing <br />counters across a chart <br />unthinking, unfeeling, <br /> <br />except when the counter <br />stood for his convoy, <br />en route to Singapore, <br />and you were not <br />allowed to tell him <br />you knew where <br />he was ending up, <br /> <br />though, <br />in fact, <br />you only <br />thought <br />you knew.<br /><br />Wild Bill Balding<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/muriel-1941/
