Sir Winston Churchill‘S Ghost
Justine look and then he is gone
Sir Winston Churchill’s Ghost
In midnight halls, he lingers on,
A shadow in a bowler hat, a leader gone.
Cigar smoke curling through the silent air,
A grumble of thunder beneath his stare.
The echo of war rooms, dim and cold,
Maps unfurled, stories bold.
Whiskey’s bite and the weight of lead,
Battles waged in a voice long dead.
The iron growl of speeches past,
A ghostly murmur that cannot last.
He haunts the chambers of old defeat,
Where victory limped on tired feet.
No cheers now, no clinking glass,
Just the ticking clock as ages pass.
A Prime-minister, a spirit’s lost,
Winston lingers still.
Some see him, then he fades away,
Dressed in old, not modern day.
A fleeting glance, a coat, a cane,
Gone before they call his name.
The past still paces, firm and slow,
A ghost with nowhere else to go.
In silent halls, he makes his stand,
A shadow cast across the land.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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