THROUGH MAX'S EYES

Max is a boy of nearly and not quite eight 
His normal everyday life he now has to wait
For his town where he lives is a pile of rubble
The tank in his playground only means trouble 

Max once was a happy and carefree boy 
Like all seven year olds he had a favourite toy
Games he plays now are different than before
As two Russian soldiers now enter his door 

Max doesn't know why the soldiers are here 
Daddy can't tell him and wipes away a tear 
Bricks have now replaced the kitchen and landing
Can't go to school is Max's understanding 

So as nations around the world gather their facts
Spare a thought please for seven year old Max 
He carries in his pocket a picture of the Pope 
Which he turns to daily for solice and hope