MOJAL

I walked into my mothers room,            To be finally away from the bitter coldness,            Of the dreaded battle field            And land into my mothers warm arms again,            But only to find her crying on the bed,            What is wrong mother?            She jumped, as if she felt a sudden shiver,            From a cold but loving embrace.            Do not cry, I am not dead.            I arrived into my sisters room            And see her in her nurses uniform,            Sobbing as she hugs an old photo            Tightly against herself.            What is wrong my dear sister?            I l