The Bank of Dramore

The war in Iraq, it's worrisome, I wrote something for my brother who is fighting there....

A silhouette sitting on the bank of Dramore,
illuminate and solid as the morning breeze.

She whisks by,
unfeeling, and uncaring,
forgetful and remorseful,
Timeless as the sea.

She waits,
waiting for her mourning son,
waiting with welcoming arms,
Waiting as the time changes.

The sun rises, indicating a new day,
the boy she bore had still not come home.

A single tear fell,
then another,
then another,
Time draws more tears as dawn soon becomes evening.

A war issues,
a war of lost hope,
a war bringing death,
The days are counted by the lost hours of fighting.

Time will never bring him back,
though she sits on the bank of Dramore.