Poem : A Coffin For Charles


We all heard the rumours.
I heard there were a thousand
Nicola said she heard it was three thousand
Louis said there were so many it could not be quantified.
“Quantified, what’s that?”
We exclaimed before slapping his stupid face.
I decided to ask my father
He knows more than any man
His word is the ultimate truth.
Nicola pushed me forward
And I knocked on his office door.
He worked every hour of every day
But never left me feeling lost
He gave me power like no other.
“Yes?”, his voice boomed.
I felt a whisper in my throat
And went on in.
“Charlie!” he exhaled
Obviously happy to see me.
“Can I ask you something, Father?”
He ruffled my hair.
“Of course buddy, ask away”
I looked at the floor,
Excited to know the truth.
“We…we…we heard of coffins?”
He took a swig of Jack
I loved the smell as it reminded me only of him.
“In what context? Sorry, I mean, what do you mean?”
I saluted as I said his name.
“We heard he made 150,000 coffins, is this true? And if so, why?”
The number had gone up every day we talked about it.
“Son, war is a savage beast,
You cannot fight and expect no bodies.”
“Someone has to die
And Churchill made the coffins
For those Brits who were annihilated.
Sorry, I mean killed.”
I could hardly breathe hearing the truth.
“Ladies, men, children, babies,
All will be taken care of.”
I was sick on the floor
And ran out quickly
To hug Nicola and Louis
Lest they be taken from me.
Please tell me there isnt a coffin for Charles.
I’m not done living!

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