Hidden Gift
It Lingered on the air, a belated gift. The one he will cherish most.
More then the letter, the pictures, or the tin of cookies. A sweet rememberance, a piece
of her that will never leave his mind.A simple thing, a small pleasure to ease the stresses of war and ravage. His toils, which he must endure; each day more numbing then the rest.
It is his duty that keeps him from her, away from her loving arms and sweet
soft fragerance. He strives on, to spite his longing for her. A man must keep his
word, or so he tells himself. Even with his reassuring words he longs to go to her. To hold her close and touch her face, the price is too high and yet he considers it. He cannot go to her, for she is a world away in body, yet never further then a moment from his thoughts.
He often thinks of duty. Duty to his family. Duty to his God, Duty to his country. Its the last that keeps him from her. In this desolate place, enduring these horrors. Of which he will always recall. He wears his noble uniform, proud and strong. Yet he resents it in some small part. For it keeps him from her and the life he longs to live. To spite the resentment he soldiers on, donning his uniform and setting to his tasks.He is with her in his thoughts, and in his dreams.
Far from the battle fields, and muster call. Beyond the horrors, past the death and disfigurement. She awaits, in her comfortable life, she goes on. Day by day waiting for him, for
her love. With open arms and a full heart. On the air lingers her scent, a simple perfume. With a pleasent scent and pithy name. It is that scent, lingering on a letter, the one she wrote a short time ago, it is that scent that will bring him home. To her heart, to the home they will build and the life they both dream of. Her on cold midwestern nights, and him under the suns of eden whenever he can find some simple sleep.
More then the letter, the pictures, or the tin of cookies. A sweet rememberance, a piece
of her that will never leave his mind.A simple thing, a small pleasure to ease the stresses of war and ravage. His toils, which he must endure; each day more numbing then the rest.
It is his duty that keeps him from her, away from her loving arms and sweet
soft fragerance. He strives on, to spite his longing for her. A man must keep his
word, or so he tells himself. Even with his reassuring words he longs to go to her. To hold her close and touch her face, the price is too high and yet he considers it. He cannot go to her, for she is a world away in body, yet never further then a moment from his thoughts.
He often thinks of duty. Duty to his family. Duty to his God, Duty to his country. Its the last that keeps him from her. In this desolate place, enduring these horrors. Of which he will always recall. He wears his noble uniform, proud and strong. Yet he resents it in some small part. For it keeps him from her and the life he longs to live. To spite the resentment he soldiers on, donning his uniform and setting to his tasks.He is with her in his thoughts, and in his dreams.
Far from the battle fields, and muster call. Beyond the horrors, past the death and disfigurement. She awaits, in her comfortable life, she goes on. Day by day waiting for him, for
her love. With open arms and a full heart. On the air lingers her scent, a simple perfume. With a pleasent scent and pithy name. It is that scent, lingering on a letter, the one she wrote a short time ago, it is that scent that will bring him home. To her heart, to the home they will build and the life they both dream of. Her on cold midwestern nights, and him under the suns of eden whenever he can find some simple sleep.
posted by Gipper at 9:55 PM
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