Returning From Iraq
Patches of white Virburnum
like piles of snow on the ground.
Birds, with enchanting songs,
carol in the first light.
Acres of clover weed, white,
carpet the spaces between the trees.
White petals blow like snowflakes in the gentle breeze.
In minds’ eyes the scenery froze,
then night falls, and the white moon glows.
Fireflies like mini lights
decorate the warm summer night.
“Baby, I …”
She put her finger to his lips,
and melts like a snowman with every kiss.
She whispers to him softly,
With lips still on lips:
“Baby you are my Christmas gift.”
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