Left in Preston

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Left in.... Virgin Active

 

 

Over bark, under  birch

 

The shrapnel and noise

had long since fallen

But you still feared the telegram.

And the news that his return to you

would only come in a box.

For reasons unknown,

Your thoughts were unjust

And the layers of smog,

Rich in death, and pale in life

Relinquished all rights upon this man.

It slowed down for you,

Maybe listening to the heartbeating inside.

And from its steep descent

It blanketed death,

But returned your man

alive.  

 

Your husband

The soldier,

he packed his bag

headed home to the rocky shores

With a new unease

and a loss of leg,

a limp.

But still.

He was coming home.

 

He stepped off the ship

Onto the isle he was born

He walked with indifference

Flashbacks in sound

The falling of life

dragging him down,

He longed for the comfort

That came in your arms

It was the place he sought

And knew to be home.

So he sucked in his breath

hoped to be strong.

Andforgot all.

But you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Through the wide open woods

over bark, under birch

he scoured the land

until the calm came.

No fancy words

Did decorate more

The calm tearing

Of heart,

When that moment was you.

Your hazel rich head

And curlings of hair,

Swirled round in surprise

as the door opened wide.

 

Life

was life, once again.

And suddenly it was worthy to be lived.

You, his wife, rejoiced,

And dropped the china,

to the floor.

He froze and captured that

one solitary moment

And let it nestle inside his heart.

Forever.

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