It is morning, Sun’s rising, time for a five-mile.
The air is cool it will only be a short while.
I see so many structures that are meant to last.
Too withstand the heat, sand and rockets blast.
Iraq bases are fated to be towns for ghost,
With many amenities it has right to boast.
We built a city in the middle of nowhere.
It is ultimately going to be stripped bare.
The buildings stand out of the sand like a great brute.
So busy, they continuously hum and hoot.
In a few years they shall whisper to wind and say,
“Brave young soldiers were here and all have gone away,
Most warriors left when it was their time to leave.
But others went too soon, for them this sand will grieve.”