Two rooms,
One adjacent to the other;
No news
Whether nuclear warfare has started yet.
Missiles!
Duck your head, doggy.
No kills,
But war has just begun.
Red hair,
She prowls beneath the breakfast table.
No fair!
He's caught out in the open.
B-Day,
The Bridgette skulks along.
Air raid!
He swoops down from above.
Oh, oh my, those are real tears!
Please, dear sister, stop it-don't fear.
Good grief, don't cry!
Mom's gonna hear us; we'll die.
Treaty.
Two generals shake hands, depart;
Breathe deep,
He wonders how he ever got that to work.
Traitor!
She rounds the corner, direct hit to head.
Later:
He'll work on better tactics.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
def. done this before...I love home-ish poems such as this. -landrey