The war has been won, But she has lost a son. The day the battle of worlds begun, Her son had just returned. There was news of air raid all around, Her son was called back on ground. That was the last day the proud mother, Felt her son touch her feet, Clad in uniform. As the days passed, She thought neither of hunger, Nor thirst. Her eyes were fixed on screen of the television, Her son may cross her vision. Her lips moved in an inaudible prayer, Her hands told the beads of rosary, Her son's health was all, For that she cared. There was at last a ray of hope, The enemy had no troops to cope. But she had still not heard from, The apple of her eye, All she could do was wait and cry. Suddenly the phone rang, She desperately hoped, It was news from her son. And so it was, The receiver from her hand fell down. He returned, This time cl! ad in tri-colour. True. The war has been won, But she has lost a son.