From an afganistan mother

Sunday morning, I woke up.
I looked at all the flowers you've got.

Looked at the blue, the red, the green.
So many flowers I have seen.

You must be happy it's wonderful here,
nobody is screaming, so friendly the air.

It's a nice place under the tree.
The sun ist shining, can you see?

Oh I know you can't see that.
Your eyes are closed, you lay in your bed.

You're sleeping forever, under the sand.
You were shut in the war and I must understand.