A village unrecognizable in its’ stillness
Shadows where buildings once stood
A child’s haunted eyes peer out of a crate made window
Sitting motionless, searching with melancholy anticipation
Possibilities of peace reduced to rubble
A boy, drifting on a dust filled road, tumbles to his knees
Category: society
When the Bough Breaks, Poetry by Harper James
It felt like you
The destination,
I see,
Was linked from (let there be) light – Not
Just as it ripened to be
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