And, reading of the war,
I cross the battleground
Amid the steaming gore
Of corpses all around,
And hear the screams of shells
And aircraft overhead,
Yet miss the peals of bells
That mourn the fallen dead.
But, putting down the page,
I’m where I’ve always been –
A place no war could rage,
For that would be a sin.
Yet, from the books I read,
I get the things I need.
Photo by Jilbert Ebrahimi on Unsplash
Reading
