The Sound That Cried

the sound of an air raid siren

threw his arms around me in a

tight embrace and cried on my shoulder,

he told me, through its pooling tears,

that he wished death didn't follow

him like a shadow, and the armada

of ghosts (from cities destroyed

and buried in debris) would stop 

haunting him whenever he closed his 

eyes,

he wished only good things

would happen when you heard him,

like the births of children,

or the blossoming of flowers.