The Great London Plague

The Great London Plague

The air was thick with death’s cold touch,

A city lost, too still, too much.

In alleys dark, in shadows deep,

The silent cry, the fevered sleep.

The streets once bright with life and cheer,

Now emptied, choked with silent fear.

Each breath a risk, each step a prayer,

For those who wandered, unaware.

The carts rolled by, the mourning cry,

As shadows claimed the passers-by.

A city wept, a city’s plea,

“Will we survive this misery?”

And death, it came with ruthless hands,

To claim the life the plague demands.

God bless those lost in eternal sleep

As there souls for whole the world did weep