And then his life too ended just like others
Mouth open with fear…eyes staring wide
Wide to the horizon of Peace
Away from this war where his blood now bleeds
His wails are but his funeral prayers
And the firing bullets – his ringing bells and hymns
But the melodies of the free flying birds…
Alas! Are the cried of his distant maid
His tears are dry
And so are his dreams
Dreams that were all his
But never would it now be fulfilled
His maid looks for him
And longs to hear from him
But who would send her his letters of love
Drenched in his blood
Scribbling, “He is Dead?”
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