In this steel and concrete tomb,

 pondering on things missed.

Foremost is a loving touch,

the feelings after being kissed.

Sounds of night in woodland,

the sun's warmth on a free day.

The cry of a flying bird, gleeful laughter of children at play.

But what is real in these hellish places

 are the many sounds of anguish,

from emotionally drained pain numbed faces.


Sounds of the frustrated, missing those loved.

 A fact stands out It seems.

Freedom is a mysterious lady,

We only make love in our dreams.

20 June 96