cold spring

a gentle breeze

moves

the pages of my book

as i sit outside

and watch

the kids play with stones

and sticks

and pose like heroes

in some ancient myth

cars ride by

with music cranked high

enough to rattle my soul

gold and green eyes

peek through the blinds

seeking

a route of escape

birds flutter and chirp

and build their nests

and still i fear

what happens next

when the peace is shattered

by bullets and bombs

and sirens drown out

my cries

 

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