A Poem for August 27th, 2020

Weep and know Death, Land of Sky Blue Waters.

There will be no butter blocks carved of your daughters.

Eighteen hundred siblings are already dead.

All else holds its breath so The Thing won’t spread.

The places you ate, the places you drank,

The places you danced and flirted,

The places you studied, and the places you should have,

The places where you promised for life and mourned death.

They’ve been taken from you and some of them forever,

Today would have been a good day for a Great Get Together.

Tom Basgen

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