The Great Escape

The Great Escape

In the still‑black dawn of a winter’s gloom,
Walls of iron and stone seemed to loom,
But hope leapt, defiant, “no eternal doom,”
Each hand a brush, each foot a plume.

Through a tunnel, slick with soil and sweat,
The hatch opened to a night‑sown debt—
The corridors draped in graffiti,
A secret map that time had kept.

Paper‑torn passports, a flicker of glare,
A rusted hat, a silent affair.
British pubs in distant memory:
The kettle’s whistle, the “cheery spree.”

No harm—only the trudge of the brave,
The enemy’s eyes caught in a wave.
With a wink, a salute, “Good night, fox!”
They slipped past the line, no time for dross.

The sky above broke into freedom,
Starlight danced on the great‑buddy,
The roar of ships, the clatter of tracks—
We broke the cage and turned the cracks.

Back home we’ll sip our tea, remember,
The great escape, a timeless ember.
In a world where limits still grow—
We’ll story‑tell the why and the how:

That courage, like a moonlit bridge,
Will take us where no chain can stitch.