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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1172727
Yet again I've written on a beach, this time on holiday in Crete.
Holiday in the sun, a time for relaxing,
Glorious beach in Crete, nothing should be taxing
my brain, but unconstrained my thoughts are free to race;
Nothing stops thinking, even this beautiful place.

The news was very bad when we left the UK,
War's cruel toll, there's another fourteen dead today.
Why? What freedom is fought for over many years
of suffering, and the price, deaths and daily fears.

A subversive sea of hate mists and covers truth,
Sadly goes the relentless march of doomed lost youth.
Given in an unknown land, each has sacrificed a life,
There's no return to daughters, sons or waiting wife.

And for soldiers that survive, do they ever blame
all those that cause their lives to never be the same?
Will there always be a cloud, risen from the war?
Is there ever doubt of what they were aiming for?

Now I stretch lazily, my skin warmed by the sun,
Thinking of those made to fight, those ruled by a gun.
Suddenly here, by gentle sea, I just want to weep,
But I make my escape, thankfully, I fall asleep.
© Copyright 2006 Ann Ticipation (annticipation at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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