Mars Has No Wars

It's not red, like they said. It's white, green, pink, blue And all other fascinating hues. Not the grays I am used to. I was told there is no air here, Yet every breath is crisp and sheer No masks, no tubes, no weight to bear. Most importantly, nothing to fear. I didn't need a suit or a flight, Just a smile and a grip held tight. On Mars, Food overflows, in plates, pots and dustbins Buildings rise, neither burned nor crumbling. No kids with wounds from bullet strikes. All body parts intact, not lost to any pikes. The sky glitters even without missiles, The dead are buried, not left in piles. Huge cranes lift steel to kiss the sky, Unlike ours, which lifted cries up high. Here parents and friends grow old. No blood-stained tents left to fold. They said Mars holds no life. What's this then? Afterlife? I had heard so much about Mars Today I learnt Mars has no Wars.