South Carolina, USA
Slowly, the hands moved as weathered lids closed,
the mind gently catching an outstretched hand, ever soft...
always manicured, precious....as a dream caressed the
fluttering heart in battle stride and a beat strummed
against a single drum, waiting for the cry of a bugleís call.
For this was another night
Overhead...the bullets flew...whizzing, causing the jerk of
an eye, the slight moan of a soldier sleeping...dreaming
quietly as the night drifted by on silver clouds and a
haloed moon charts itís escape into the waiting dawn.
He searched with a covered hand, sensing the nearness
of her hair, smelling the delicate scent of that which he
never touched yet often dreamt of in waves of countless
dreams, yes....dreamed of....over and over, unending
times, wished for and dreamed...yes, as the moon smiled
Arcing across the sky
The distant thud of a mortar, hurtling death into the unseen
distance. Her smile, so kind...always pleasing, yet fiery
when awake. Irish stock...... A pillow smothering the sleeping
warrior as he dreams on into the eve and soft shudders bring
out a scurry of racing lids into the calm of night far away
from the cries of battle.
To the sound, soft, rhythmic...of father time speaking in
whispers. Dawn comes as each teasing tremor of timely
ticks brings to him the awakening nemesis that will again
lock her into the vault where countless damsels have drawn
upon the hunger of their lips to bring again another moment
as a smile creases his face and the sweetness of it all lies
quietly in wait of ever more...