Tears flow from eyes that rarely wrinkle with smiles
Smoke reaches for the sky
A tragic picture, lens zooming
Captures for posterity, perhaps printing
Click, another, one of the pair will be good
Birds avoid the black smoke plumes
The woman wipes a tear
Her man storms off kicking dirt on the smouldering fire.
You thought this was a war poem.
It is a poem of war…
The war of love.
