Every night I sleep,
And every night I dream
That I'm strolling with my sheep
By the old stream.
Every morn I wake,
And every morn I stand
And watch the shrapnel break
On the smashed land.
Some night I’ll fall asleep,
And will not wake at dawn.
I'll lie and feed my sheep
On a green lawn.
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Comments1Wow, this poem really evokes the contrast between the peace of sleep and the harsh reality of waking up in a war zone. Touching and thought-provoking!