Hanging By A Thread Poem by Mary Champion

All in the shadow of Hiroshima,
lead-lined bunkers, mushroom clouds, Viet Nam.
My youth was filled with talk of nuclear war
as Russian Bear confronted Uncle Sam.
Back then, I never lost a wink of sleep,
our leaders seemed too grounded- flawed but sane.
They'd lived through hell themselves, seen loved-
ones weep,
they would not risk a world-wide war again.
When Kennedy played chicken with Kruschev
across the Bay of Pigs, I had no doubt
that common sense would resolve their stand-off.
But now this faith I had is running out,
for Putin, Trump and screw -ball Kim Jong-un
have fingers on the buttons- It's High Noon! .