The guns have ceased their thunderous roar
      And birdsong takes its place;
And war has moved to somewhere new
     And left but little trace.

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The golden meadows bloom with flowers
     In summer’s warm, fresh air.
And has the world now healed its wounds
     Although you are not there?

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The gold of autumn strikes our world;
     Then winter’s wind blows cold.
Christmas joy comes flooding in 
     And Earth’s at peace, we’re told.

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When winter changes into spring,
      I offer up my prayer
That humans learn to live in peace - - - 
     Although you are not there.

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Copyright on all my poems 

 

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