End of war

Where are bees that swarmed the lilies

The mules that ate the apples

That fell from wrinkled winding trees

Where are the sparrows that sang so sweet

The badgers that burrowed nests and homes

To raise their fuzzy playful cubs

Where are the cafés full of life and laughter

The benches where old men rested

And watched the children play

Why do flames and fire burn to ashes

Men and boys with rifles in their hands

Who had no part in mad mens anger

Why have clear blue skies and clouds of white

Lost their place to foul and blackened smoke

That reeks of sulphur tainted death

When do children, wives, and mothers mourn no more?