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Comments about Gil Garcia
Little Girl Of Kosovo
Deep into her eyes I stared,
and wondered how this child fared.
Her little face was sad
a little ill and mad.
Her clothes were turn and soiled,
a childhood in hellish turmoil.
Her blond dirty hair whipped into the wind
as she looked into a land she’s never been,
just keeping close to her mother,
still remembering her father.
I look once more deep into her blue eyes,
I could almost feel her cry.
Deep in the dark of the pupil lens
I see the fire burning dense.
The eerie shadows of hanging death
begin to shorten my every breath.
Further, deep ...