Stop firing

Stop firing

The world is tinged

With orange

The sun a fiery glow

A taste of sorrow

The decadence of life

Laid waste

Children play

In search of nature

Plastic swords and toy guns

The barricades are holding

As the smile is stretched

The stitches pulled tight

Over stumps

Of gristle the molten core

Of war

Rolls over the heads

Of the little ones

In awe of the moon

Falling stars

Exocets are missiles

Apparently.

Tyros play games

With as much gusto

As they can muster

Nobody dies today

But tomorrow is a day

Too far

To consider

The consequence

Of mushrooms

In the dark,

The indifference of the breeze

To the carriage

Of spores.

Playgrounds are full to the brim

With spoils

Children dance

For all they are worth.

Castles crumble

Into the sand

All is returned

Nothing is revealed

And sorrow falls heavily

Onto the breaking heart

Of another

Stolen day.