Letter from Iraq

Have you seen young Lily, fair,
Standing on the village square,
Waiting till her beau returns,
While her soul so deeply yearns,
But the letter in my hand
Knows of his untimely end.
Never, never does it say
From a place so far away,
In the desert does he lie,
In Iraq did he die,
Dreams there with his broken eyes,
Staring up at leaden skies.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz