Behind Guarded Gates
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A boy plays behind guarded gates,
unaware of what fate awaits.
And a chilly wind sways the trees,
whistling with every feisty breeze.
Pointing to a jet in the sky,
he's mesmerized as death streaks by.
And when you snatch him up to run,
the earth erupts bright as the sun.
A siren warns of an attack,
the air explodes, and all turns black.
And you wake from a numbing sleep,
racked by pain, and begin to weep.
Opening your eyes, the sky's gone,
total darkness erased the dawn.
And your ears ring painfully loud,
buried under a smoking shroud.
Reaching out, you encounter death;
your child is without pulse or breath.
And a piercing pain stabs your soul,
your son lies dead here in this hole.
Air and sound rush in together,
but all you smell is burnt leather.
For in times of war, hope can't rise,
what is life; when your whole world dies?
(Rhyme)
02/09/2023
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2023
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