A son, a father, say their goodbyes,
as ominous black rain-clouds, start to dot the skies.
A grim placid look, upon the father’s face,
as he and his son, share their last embrace.
He returns to his ships, to rejoin his crew,
not even knowing, they’re at the bottom of the deep blue.
He returns to find his men drowning in a fiery storm,
the rain-clouds have thickened, and cut through the fog.
They are relentless and drown out the ships,
some now with hail, some now with sleet.
Now it seems, that they have all gone,
the sun peeks through, signaling the dawn.
The clouds come back and blot out the sun,
their storm of pain seems to never be done.
After ninety minutes of torture, ninety minutes of hell,
the only sound to be heard, is the sound of the knell.
The son stares at the scene, not knowing what to do,
his father stares back, from the depths of the blue.
This day lives in infamy, infamy for all,
December 7th of ’41, the day of the fall.