Sonnet №51 — the last to die

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Photo credit CBC.ca

It was around 9:00 am EST, on December 17, 2020, my young friend Brandon Billinger, known and loved around the Blogosphere as @TheRookieDad, lost his father to Covid_19. To Brandon and his family, I dedicate Covid Poem 4.

Sonnet 51 — the last to die — Covid poem 4

The body count is rising every day.

We keep our dead in skate rinks, dead on ice.

Old men in charge — who mere pretend to pray;

no shits to give, they rolled us and the dice.

We’re all the dead — my brother and my wife.

Thousands dead, more than died in Viet Nam.

Despots chose their money o’er our lives;

those is charge, I pray their souls be damned.

Our doctors and our nurses, nobly haunted,

their faces for all time scarred with terror.

Brave wade in, stare down demons undaunted

All those lives, so many lost in error.

Of thousands, who shall be the last to die

because of evil men who horrify?

— -May 2020.

This sonnet can save change your life. I’m bringing sonnets back. Please support the cause with a few claps and a follow. Thank-you.

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