Pippa Moss Poems

Trembling down in the trench, thinking of nothing but home,
Above I hear a roar, another mine has blown.
There is no turning back, the battle must go on,
Nonetheless it seems to me all meaningless and wrong.
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If there was ever a year to reflect on plenty
It was the blasted year of 2020
You really got to know your home
Counted your blessings, tried not to moan
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Never underestimate a river's charm
The lapping sound, that sense of calm
The ribbon through the bustling city
The bridges which are truly pretty.
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Living like a rushing wind with just no time to stop
Feeling oddly guilty if there's a reason that I'm not.
Trapped by what's expected, the required nine to five
Finding that an in-box doesn't make me feel alive.
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I'm worried about the kids, I don't understand
The look they give me, a gadget in each hand
It's not the world I knew back then
When we played outside with a real life friend
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Do you try to be a hero, but you've not quite learnt to fly?
Do you wonder why you fail, when you've given your best try?
Perhaps we're often blinded, to our own heroic deeds
Bogged down at times by chores, and all life's wants and needs:
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A father is totally crucial
They'll give you the best of advice
It may sometimes seen a bit brutal
But it's really just them being nice.
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Tasty takeaway, in car for a treat,
Driving along, with home not far
Damn this box, it's finished with now,
Wind down the window, gone, hoorah.
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The King and Queen were full of joy
On the birth of a bouncing baby boy
This occasion needed a special day
Where everyone could come and say
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Dragging the Christmas tree out the door,
a longing begins that grips at my core.
The first two months almost wished away,
my mood, like the sky, tinged with grey.
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