The war

I want to paint – children waving to their poor parents, the smell of the smoke burning my lungs, the train rattling like bombs plummeting to the ground.


I want to paint – children shivering in the whirling wind, the taste of burnt blood rattiling like a volcano in my mouth, the guns rouring loud as a lion.


I want to paint- A plane soaring through the sky poised when it see a barage balloons, the train driver shouting “ All aboard “ , my mother giving me a hug.


I want to paint – the end of this war.

No comments yet.

Please leave a comment. Remember, say something positive; ask a question; suggest an improvement.

%d bloggers like this: