The 13th Lucky Day Poem by Douglas McClarty

A crisis meeting took place
In our good room.
With Uncle Willie, John and my Dad
I remember it was a Sunday
Before the thirteenth day, they said
We were all about to be blown away
One bomb in Belfast will kill us all
Was this all about Cuban cigars
Why should the world end this way
I was now counting every precious day
Should we build a shelter in our backyard
But using our spade it would be to late
Unfortunately there was no way to escape.
We watched our little black and white screen
To watch the Cuban crisis becoming
Our very worse dream.
As the Russian ships sailed to deliver
their cargo of doom
Silence fell in our little front room
We watched TV as president Kennedy said
with a serious frown.
Mr Khrushchev your ships must turn around
Like watching the final of a football match
The tension was building, who will win
They faced each other like matador and bull
Will the red flag win or stars and strips
Or will both fall in the last bull ring
the final minutes past, are we all going to die
Then in a moment the Russians gave way
Proving for history the 13th was a lucky day.