Since there seemed to be a surgance of poetry, I decided to try to write one.
Mother's Day
Wounded and bleeding, the soldier lay dying.
And from his lips, a moan came crying:
"I forgot to make a card," he said sighing,
As on the field, he lay bleeding and dying.
Yeah, I don't know what motivated me to write this. I think I'm going soft. Anyway, what do you think?