Conscripted Poem by Naveed Akram

The conscripted men and women fell in love,
Armies have spoken with tongues that are a glove.

Some make olives from olive trees of the shining one,
Seeds made their appearance from some ages genuine.

The conscripts came and looted the orchards that swayed,
One compels the other, and one is two of them to persuade.

What fairness lies in the thirst of a liar that discourages the trade?
That trade occupies my path from the kingdom betrayed.