His Little War When he woke,
He saw the sky.
"There is no roof",
The small boy cried.
Books were flapping,
On the floor,
Toys were hanging,
From the door.
His father's car,
Was all aflame,
His cat was hissing,
Quite insane.
Blocks were burning,
Dolls were torn,
Crashing spoilt,
The early morn.
His mother's clothes,
So scorched and black,
Were hanging hot
Against the shack.
He cried and screamed,
For mum and dad,
But no one heard,
Or saw the lad.
Joy Weare.
9th July, 2004.
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