My Poem About the War by Chloe

My Spit-Fire

I was in the spit fire,

Steering to the left,

Going higher and higher,

And feeling bereft.

Flying through the air,

My friend next to me,

It's not fair,

Bombing Germany.

The plane roared, 

All the way,

Then I dropped,

And flew away.

Bristling bombs,

Sent to Germany,

I'd dropped more bombs,

Than any other day.

By Chloe