At the end of a storm by Evie West – Yr 8

At the end of a storm,

there’s a golden sky.

Until we spread our wings,

and fly.

No longer rocking on the waves of melancholy,

the sad, empty feeling, controlling, taking over,

the hollow space where your heart should be.

It took so many.

The precious, fragile lives,

That escaped the bounds of Earth,

lifted far up into the heavens.

A fight for freedom we’ve fought.

A life we’ve so long sought.


Where it all began.

A rapidly spreading wildfire,

across a landlocked country.

It took hold of Asia,

trapped it in chains of fear.

A vicious invisible monster unleashed,

wreaking havoc,

creating a raging war.


It was on the news.

Frontline page on the papers.

A whirlpool of uncertainty,

of depression and gloom.

So many engulfed,

Their lives hanging on a machine.

Until they’re put to rest.

In Europe,

it was a bit of a joke,

A virus in a far-off land.

We went about our daily lives,

our minds full of work and school.

We had a happy life,

of blissful ignorance.

Covid-19 was nothing to worry about.

In March,

Covid escaped the bounds of Asia.

To Italy it went.

Knocking down the walls of protection.

Panic escalated,

touching everyone in sight.

It spiralled out of control,

hurting so many.

But still it carried on,

the irresistible monster.

April came round,

the world trapped in a Covid bubble,

irrepressible, unrestrainable.

The fierce lockdown measures,

captured so many.

Locked people away in a cage,

un-able to escape.

On windows,

The message of hope spread,

a light at the end of a tunnel.

The crayon scribbled rainbows,

the brightly assorted colours,

of hope and joy.

Stay home

Save lives

Protect the NHS

The monster still goes,

Its wrath beginning to slow,

leaving behind a trail of devastation,

of destruction and sadness.

Yet there is still hope.

Light at the end of a long tunnel.

So I’ll sit and wait.

Till the end of the storm.


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