My Lucky Sandbox

Gunfire & Thunder sound the same
in the child’s sleep

They say repetition numbs the pain
Quells the fear
Conditions the mind

    Some are born on the bloodied frontline
    Cribbed by the chalk lines
    Nursed in the trenches

    I was nurtured in a lucky little sandbox
    Below our pretty flower box
    In the shade of an Oak

The acoustical waves
The cracks & pops
never really bothered me or
disturbed my sleep

unless it was raining.