At 3:02 the last bomb fell, smoke and ashes spread,
wiping out survivors that were counting up the dead.
Buildings lay in rubble, piled throughout the street,
as the country once the master met such grim defeat.
Some bodies moved in search of food while others screamed and cried,
By 5:05 in the afternoon all but two had died.
A youth whose eyes were lost in flames, stumbled in pain and fright
as a woman lay huddled in a smoke filled room hiding away from the night.
For three long weeks they survived this way, just barely enough to eat.
The future of a rebuilt was lost, lest the two should meet.
The blind man staggered in bricks and trash,
falling and crawling through the smouldering ash.
Death was creeping up on him for he heard the steps behind,
when a woman’s scream pierced his ears and thoughts raced through his mind.
Face to face at last they stood, now the world could grow,
but the youth without his vision was the last of two to know.
His hands reached to touch her, but she said “ it can’t be done”
Then she took him in her arms “My God I’ve found my son”.