Frank Gray

They sit down, needed six or five chairs or maybe more
To tale of things they had saw, things they had heard, things yet to come.
The first, told tales, cold and blue, for she had walked where tears always fall,
The second, told tales hot and blood red, for he had walked where hate might grow.
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War came for my mother, while she slept,
War came for my father, while he worked,
War came for my brother, while he prayed,
War came for my little sister, while he played,
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The wandering girl often wondered, why the sky was blue, and her bed was cold.
She wondered where she might have to wander, to see skies gold and sliver
She wondered what waters, she must tread to find where whales dance to the song of the moon
She wandered to the sound thundering drums,
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