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I had written this poem way back in Grade 8 and I know it’s very amateurish, even more than some of my other poems. But here goes – it is nevertheless a reflection of the anti-war sentiments I had then and still have now. 

She called out “Don’t go”,
She called out again,
But then he looked back,
Soggy in the rain,
His feet all wet and dirty,
His hair all full of sand,
But he knew he had to go,
To fight for his land,
 
She wept a tear for her misery,
Another for her love,
And yet in her loneliness,
She felt his warm touch,
His deep voice,
Tearing apart from her,
But there was no choice,
Except for a goodbye,
A wave in the rain,
And yet she cried,
For togetherness again,
 
His voice was as cold as iron,
His feet all blistered in the rain,
His eyes were as red as blood,
Longing for home again,
And yet he cried,
For life was as good as death,
 
She sat there knitting,
Knitting his name,
Recalling the memories,
Of him again,
And yet she cried,
For his safety,
His ragged appearance,
His swift feet,
Now pale and numb in the rain,
 
She waited for a letter,
Waited for half a year,
So silent she was,
And yet she dropped a tear,
She sobbed, she cried,
But he couldn’t hear,
For once on a rainy day, he had died.

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