[text by Beth Happiness in the poetry section]

War

White and red it flows through the sand.
Black and White together they stand.
Cold and stiff as rocks they lay.
Morning and noon, night and day.
Tick, tick, tick, the hands of time move slowly.
Flip, flip, flip, the pages of calendars turn.
Slowly time passes by.
Then shouts of joy ring out.
But why?
We haven't really won.
Because...

White and red it flows through the sand.
Black and White together they stand.
Cold and stiff as rocks they lay.
Morning and noon, night and day.

© 1991 Beth Mercer