On this war, torn ground where I stand
A lush, greem meadow use to be,
I would run through the fields of clover
Barefoot, happy and carefree!

Beautiful was the meadow
With, big shady trees,
That would shelter me from the hot sun
And sway gently in the breeze!

There were bright colored flowers
Their fragrance filled the air,
Mother Earth tended her garden
With special love and care!

On this war, torn ground where I stand
I close my eyes and I still can see,
Mother Earth's beautiful garden
The way it used to be!

There are no more flowers
There are no more trees,
Only man made craters
No more beauty to see!

By: Yvonne Legge
Copyright 1998 Yvonne Legge

My War Poetry