That night, we cleaned the house.
The whole house, and even the yard
spotless- so when my brother came back,
from the military draft,
Everything would be perfect.

We left our home...
It was a ranch, and a low balcony,
made of iron and stone
with a sweet jasmine tree
to travel far down
to our ol’ summer house.
The ride there was silent;
not a peep from a mouse.

At maybe two,
maybe four in the morning...
I heard on the early news
that our house had been bombed
by the two terrorist groups.

A fact learned at school
came back- my brain lit:
if the sound was loud enough,
then you wouldn't hear it.
So my brother, he slept
in walls of iron and stone;
When the bomb had gone off,
all he heard was the drone

All stone walls did come down,
And they did so with might
But the whole wall had fallen
atop him that night.
Though the stones had all scattered
and rained down in rife,
The wall had protected him,
saving his life.