On my way into town,

I met a girl called Bomb.

She had eyes of grief anger

that could make a trained soldier run.

As she spoke to me her voice was rough

and she spat sparks.

She was nuclear by name and nuclear by nature.

On my way into town,

I met a boy called Horse.

His palomino coat glistened in the evening sun,

as he galloped towards the fields.

On my way into town,

I met a woman of Peace.

Her glowing eyes radiated sorrow and pain

for the wars being fought day and night.

The dove on her shoulder spread messages of hope and joy.

On my way into town,

I met a man called Death.

His silver scythe glinted dangerously in the moonlight,

His hooded face was calloused with age.

Though he was near to me I couldn’t hear his footsteps.

On my way into town,

I met a girl called Home.

I turned and followed her.