1 Spitfire

Flames of shooting arrows and light of firing pistols,

The sun that never sets and the sky that never dims,

Blaming a kindle for the never-ending listel,

The sky roaring it's every whim.

Sha'll thou listen? Or sha'll thou proceed.

War rages beyond trifling land,

Ablaze the dry and dead weeds,

Bombs among bombs hacked into the sand,

T'was the most foul deed ever done to land.

Trees mangled and disfigured,

Unplanned bodies that lay in aimless order,

Bit by bit could be discovered on this land thus triggered,

Mass graves since thus a bone warder.

To never rise again and to never see ones smiles,

From this freedom and peace brought with the suffering,

The reward for those who went miles,

And put those brave enough through the wring.