Wednesday, April 02, 2003

The war will be over soon,
It will be over soon, I tell myself,
I tell my daughter. I would tell my
grandson, but what can he know
about war? Why should we ever
tell him? There are too many tears,
sorrow enough in this world
he need not know about.

There are tulips in my garden,
growing with a vengeance,
against war.

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