My Eleanor

MY ELEANOR Darling, yet another day is past gone, While we rest from the battle; losing not just one. As the wind of pain blows round our camp, Affixing to many hearts its bleeding stamp, I sit, on the warm sand, gazing at the moonlight, With thoughts glued just on you, my sunlight; The only object that holds my sanity In this jungle of blown absurdity. I gladly call to mind our parting act, Drenched in showers of the passionate art. I long, unbridled, for your charming form – A comfy shelter from this storm. Till we meet again, after this dreadful tour, This is from me to you, my lovely Eleanor. (c) Ikenna.C.Igwe, 2012