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I wriggle toes, down deep into the sand,
          Thus taking five short minutes in repose
               To breathe the tropic beauty of this land,
     Until the horrid stench assaults my nose.

I've never seen such waters, crystal blue,
          That match these South Pacific island reefs,
               Yet now they're dyed a solid crimson hue,
     The blood of boys, atoned for bent beliefs.

How can I be surrounded by such charms -
          By beauty that can take most any breath,
               And yet, I work retrieving legs and arms ...
     From waters, red, the vestiges of death?

Now all that's left is searching thru the foam,
          For bits of these dear lads ... to send back home.





~ 3rd Place ~  in the "May 2019 Premier 4, Any Form - Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

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