 |
||
 News
Listen to the journalists
Listen to what they say
Listen to the whining
This is what they portray
They speak of all the trouble
In countries set afar
Of the towns now laid to rubble
No way through for a motor car
The mortars fall like stardust
Across a neon sky
Firecrackers tracing
What is the reason why?
The fallen they are lifted
On a canvas chariot
Children lying whimper
They are the lucky ones
Many are not
© Kath Thomson
|
||
