Brexit Sonnet No. 155 – ‘United’

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I was to wait, perchance to dream my dream,
To write no more on this scuppered isle of shame,
‘Til Remainers lined up, in one United team
And rid our country of Brexit’s blighted game.
But this election-tide has washed ashore
Flotsam and jetsam of Party’s static rules,
And no thoughts on the bigger prize to score.
With split votes to come – we’re all now knaves or fools. 
Alas poor Warwick, where be your votes now?
Whilst Stratford’s timber frames and boards now creek,
As unifying forces disappear beneath that plough
That scythes the growth of hope Remainers seek.
Without the stand of one united voice,
The many do give the few their toxic choice.

© Keith Murphy