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The sky is falling Johnny-Boy
The air is dark with mournful wails
You rush to rescue helpless souls
Up in the sky the death-bird sails
You still fight on to aid the weak
The powerless and feeble lie
Undaunted by their wretched fate
You charge ahead while towers die
Upon the weary men and maids
The death knell of the stone and steel
Comes down in fiery wrath and woe
Unheeding of their pleas for weal
Oh, Johnny-Boy, we loved you, lad
And though the demons won the day
Your selfless love still keeps us warm
In all the wreckage and dismay
Forever now, shall all the lads
Who even in their deaths were brave
Walk hand in hand all clothed in white
With those poor souls they strove to save
©2001, Terry E. Wilbur
Terry E. Wilbur is a poet living in Dallas, Texas, married with three grown children and a cat named Caesar.
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