A Winter on War

A winter on war—

this year,

almost here—

nothing had changed.

I prayed;

knee pain deepened.

Wars raged—

jets screamed,

windows rattled—

death ghosted

a sapphire sky.

Depleted uranium

gathered into funnel clouds,

dipped in lava.

Bombs shook—

windows caught

acoustic blasts; smoke curled.

Rumors spread of haze,

the wicked had exploited children—

rubble, their cover.

Silent night,

among the living dead.

Nothing much

had changed—

this Christmas,

unlike the last,

brought clarity.

From my chair—

I surfed news channels,

swirled gin over rocks—

ice cubes clashed,

much like the war.

We chose the time, the place,

and the excuses to use them.

War had happened, but it didn't have to.

Mia slipped into my shirt—smooth legs,

a cocky wink, a confident smile.

I disarmed my words.

Blessed was Mia's soft gaze—

for life—we were blessed.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Website: https://writeovercoffee.blog/

X: AC0040