War

• Ayton Duong, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2007

The fighter planes flew through the sky,
And explosive missiles shot they.
While dodging bullets as they fly,
Knowing this was not a play.
While on earth, which was stained by blood,
Each soldier grabbed a gun.
Knowing this war was not a dud,
They charged under the setting sun.
A lone soldier charged into no man’s land,
Where all the red poppies bloom.
His feet scraped along the bloodstained sand,
And he fell down to his doom.
Then a world leader called a ceasefire,
And all soldiers dropped their guns.
When life was really dire,
All under the setting sun.