Not long ago the sun shone bright,
They all slept soundly 'neath the moons
Until the sinful guns of war,
Sounded and stole all they had before.
Like heavy rainclouds, the black smoke rolls,
Lifeless bodies lay hidden in ashes and coals.
The wounded, the sick, all year they may die,
Over blasts of guns, hear the children cry.
When the dust has settled and the years go by,
If you listen closely, you can still hear them cry.
The sounds of war still haunt their souls,
As the grass grows over the ashes and coals.
By: Melissa Patricia Moggy