A Sister's Lament

I walk into the quiet makeshift room To where one lonely injured soldier lies. He dreams of home and flowers as they bloom Though tearful pain and sorrow fill his eyes. His fateful wounds are grave upon his head. It does not look like he will surely last. He now lies cold and still atop his bed, His youthful days have all too quickly passed. To me, he so resembles many boys, Is he a brother, neighbor, or a friend? This fair-haired boy too soon robbed of his joys. Now lost to war and strife, he’ll meet his end. Too late I recognized his final smile. This boy had been my brother all the while.