Notes of Love Chapter
The horn blew as the wind picked the same moment
The note carried over the field and picking up speed
All memories of him drifted away as the bugle went silent
But she remained until the last rose
Later she would remember his last words
He had told her he would never forget her
And like the last star that goes where stars go
She went there as well
She went to that last rose and was comforted
She could feel his hands
She could smell his scent
And she saw the uniform and the horn
They met when he returned from the war and he had limped
He limped with warmth and with no complaint
They had one son but he did one too many bags
He carried his bags up his arm
And there was no bugle or wind
But there were roses and tears
They got through it with love and his limp
They sat on the porch rocking and remembered
Until his limp grew slower and the horn played
But the rose ...............
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
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