This time of year I so despise
It drains the colour from his eyes
A time which should be full of fun
He's tortured... by the sound of guns
He hits the deck he dislocates
Flashes back to a place of hate
Taking cover beneath a chair
World thrown into chaos... despair .
To him he's back in lands afar
With roadside bombs and burnt out cars
Strewn body parts... the stench of death
Rocks back and forth... struggles for breath.
His kids look on in horror... fear
It gets no easier with the years
Their hero dad reduced to this
To comfort him our only wish.
But we can't make it go away
For loud fireworks are here to stay
And they'll sound out to the New Year
With little thought for our... spent tears.
@ Debbie Razey 2016 - Violet Moon Poetry
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