A land of white beaches,
Traced by low slung palms.
And graceful waves.
Silent except for the gentle tap of nature's hand.
A land where terror stole ten years.
Where fear choked, drug blind soldiers cut soft throats.
A land where pain paled with the sun seared bones.
A land where time is written in handless arms, nervous twitches and mothers' eyes on ten year olds.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
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