Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

It’s not because they look like me; It’s not because their world seems just Like mine. It’s not because I cry More for their child than those who died Before. These aren’t the things that frighten me, That drive me to the news each night, That make me read intensely of The progress and the cruel plight Of war. My fear is that the battle ground Encompass all, because the sound Of fury with the lethal might Of weapons flying day and night, Is more. It’s more than death of wife or child, Of soldier, town or village, for Before us stands the death of life Itself, at one misstep, destruction Sure. And so I cry.

Poor poor kiddy was so scared. Poor child never should have been there. The crowd made him frightened, made him cry, so he pulled a gun and made them die. Poor poor kiddy, not his fault, see, in the land of the brave, in the land of the free.

A long time ago In a galaxy far far away In a time just after one war Before another He grew up, just in time To fight And lived. In my galaxy far far away I remember and wish I understood the way from there To here; His war so far away from this His fear, and yet he knew the way And paid His price so dear. For that galaxy far far away As space and continents And prison walls to isolate His time to now His war to this His home, his dreams, Dad this Seems a very strange time to remember A hundred years A long time ago.

It’s a new world here On the empty street Where squirrels meet No fear of cars to greet A new world here On an empty screen With a virtual meet Where friends are far away As strangers here And the virus feared Might be all too near And zap the computer first.

Redheaded giant flings his mace. The spacecraft brought me to this place. Past future gone without a trace. Computer stored no cookies, Ace!

Ah Valentine, my Valentine, With beating heart, ah love of mine, With veins so rich and red, I’ll mine Your treasures, Valentine, my Valentine.

Roses are red Dying frozen and still. Violets shiver With cold on the hill. Valentines whimper. Words are unwilled Unlike roses, Unread Unfulfilled.

Grandpa says angels make too much noise. Donkeys make more And wise men snore in tents on plains Where dangers roar While shepherds seek a king.

Darkly shadowed Starkly drawn Partly hallowed Harken, dawn is storming winter’s Broken thorn of Mourning Shorn of Sleeping Keeping Secrets Shadowed Torn

Torn and tattered Worn and battered Broken shattered Dreams of thee Once defending Those whose bending Knees were wending Paths to thee Once so certain This bright curtain Couldn’t hurt them Once so free Now betrayed That freedom slayed The price of braver-y Shall be Torn and tattered Worn and battered Broken shattered Dreams of thee.

Shout in an empty Room and a tree Falls in a forest No one to see it. Nobody hears Papermill dreams Silently screamed So fearfully laid On the page.