Door closed to dull the sounds

Of voices from the TV news

Another helicopter down

Black and white the picture beams

 

Into the room

Dying dreams

Of young men as they

Run across the boggy ground

 

Bending low under the guns

My homework spilled across my sheets

My bedspread pink and soft

I’m writing poetry instead of sums

 

 

©April 29, 2018

by Diane E. Dockum