General   (General discussion, talk about anything.)

AFTER THE SIX-DAY WAR


No surrender-
instead, a cease-fire...

...And we lounge in the June grass.
I keep my distance - reluctantly,
weighed down by shyness and want.
The grassy dew slips in through my shoe,
and I long for new socks-
a new coat and shoes would do.
We border on poor - but you are just ahead.
In the summer of love, we are just above the water-
you are the third one, the youngest daughter.
I fall in between, three brothers and sisters
over three decades;
I sit here near to you, unscathed,
a little blue under the hot June sun,
but ready to ramble and ready to run.
Through the meadow where the horses graze,
and where the bees mix it in the heat.
Or under our favourite lampost
in our familiar street.
Too young to go to war
we listen over the radio waves...
A newsflash in-beween
a White Shade Of Pale...
As our birthdays approach,
born four days apart,
we become teenagers out of love,
but together in heart...

...In the Golan Heights,
a young Syrian, barely seventeen,
has lost his leg...
He cries for help in the blood-stained sand,
alone, lost,
unseen...


Jarvo 2021