No Comfort
What reason then for celebration,
As we tore at one another's throats.
For fell the youth of warring nations,
Yet in the end the victors gloat.
So they stand in vain parade,
Awarding medals to the brave,
No comfort to a weeping mother,
As her loved one moulders, in his grave.
Entry for
MARCH 19 ,ANY FORM OR NONE,
ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 8 (E I G H T) lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
11/3/19
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