Bleeding Petals

image credit:  Dick Blick Art

He lay among his buddies
sleeping always; one eye open,
hand on their weapons, ready
for the expected unexpected.
Sleep eluded him often and
his mind drifted back to her.
Golden locks surrounding 
her heart shaped face, tan
from their days on the beach.
That was a lifetime ago
when he was still a boy,
wild and seeking adventure.
Now he had seen too much
pain, anger, fear, death.
Still, he thought of her,
meeting his mom,
sipping iced tea, so normal.
On the front porch, lazily
swinging, planning futures,
admiring his mother’s flowers.
He could feel himself 
starting to doze off,
unpeaceful, his dreams
of their life, mama’s flowers
entangled in gunpowder,
sweat, tears, and blood. 

donetta sifford  Written for: Magpie Tales – Mag 244

2 responses

  1. Takes me to the trenches of The Great War…poignant…

  2. Sharp and strong; well done.

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