The short version of the WeWritePoemsprompt this week was:
As the Great War drew to a close, a young Englishwoman wrote wearily in her diary, By the end of 1916, every boy I had ever danced with was dead.
Your instruction: respond to that sentence!War is brutal – never kind, boys leave never to return. Girls wear their yellow ribbons, pray daily and live in fear; fear for their soldiers lives; fear to have hope to see them again. The dance halls are empty for the girls will not dance alone, All the boys are gone to war. They cry their tears for all those that danced there before, those brave casualties of war. Shedding them in private, In the streets all are stoic until their boys are home from war. Turn out to greet them! Wear you best dress and scarf, wave and cheer for those that return, pick the one closest, dance in the street Kiss their cheek, Hug their neck, Hold their hands. Reopen the dance halls! The girls wish to dance again, the boys are home from war. Dance again in joy – never stop, turn up the music, wear out the floor, celebrate those that survived the war. Shed tears in private – never forget those you danced with before, brave heros never to return from war.