*_THE WHISPERING WINDS OF MEMORIES.....*_


Could I have said?
That it was that monotonous rhythm that alerted us of the raid?
The raid to our freedom whilst opponents were still on parade?
So we could run with only a spade,
For self defense, till we finally trode tired, deliquently, as our weapon turned into a sharp blade,
But our hearts a blunt blade.
No longer that precious green Jade, but a toy that they had to degrade,
So like a cade, we bade,
Our lives before war goodbye before we sped,
Deep into the heart of war that had no grade,
With our confidence that we had to braid,
No space for faults, even though what we only wished for, was just a second in the shade.


Now left with a dark memory, we are,
One that will only keep our minds at war,
My thoughts against each other they'll mar.
To forget that red stain on my hands that stuck permanently like tar.
Leaving my sense of reasoning ajar.
But if I could, I'd think of those times in the bar,
Where all I had to do was to just become a super star,
Buying other drunkards drinks it's a memory not too far,
from my eyes, but that Ghar,
Truly remind me of that raiding song that came after,
All that rings in head now is mad laughter.



#WritcoPoetryDay
© @stalactite