Tears Of Man

Ruby rivers run,

While wailing winds

Howl in vaporous acrid air

Casting shadowy silhouettes;

Harvests of war weary fields.

Beneath shallow sod

Blooms of spring will grow,

Fed by rivers bloodied snow.

Oh, if only man

Instead of flowers would come

Upon these fields we too well know.

Laughter languished

Where this river runs...

Sounds of children now

On these old battle fields

Replace the tears of man.

corrine schlessel ©1/25/03