The Afghan Snowman

The deserted street mocks the abandoned mission,
hard by the lingering ice-shadows of the factory skeleton,
frozen into a woeful December sky.
A drab, olive blur crowds the warped doorway
of the indifferent winter's foxhole.
The frayed combat jacket shrouds--
the forgotten hero
as he shivers his last breath away.
A soft, new morning snow covers him
with, a forgiving blanket of unblemished white.
A bright-eyed school boy playing at war,
pauses, before the hushed mound of snow.
He places his lunch box carrot, gently
onto the peaceful snowman,
smiles at his creation
and skips away,
into the hope of the new morning.
His mouth full of blazing guns.

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