The Soldier's Death

He came of age in nineteen forty one. A cap and gown and the keys to his car. The world was in chaos, but he saw none Of the dangers that threatened from afar. He saw a new love - he did not see war. She had blue eyes and the goldest of hair, And she was his future - somehow, somewhere. But it all changed in a minute or so As bombs tore the air and laid the world bare - What now must he do and where would she go? He was a soldier, a student no more, But the blood of warriors flowed in his veins. Now he was maker not student of lore - He became giver not taker of pains. Blood has its own way of spreading its stains, And it spared no soldier who took up arms. For gore ran amok and death came in swarms. His thoughts turned often to blonde and blue eyes With laughter and dreams of rolling hill farms That quickly returned to gasping death sighs. She cried out softly as death took her man. She loved him no matter who he became. Then they buried him in crystalline sand. She prayed for his soul, he was not to blame. She had loved him since she first spoke his name - Before war came into their lives each day While death laughed as it took youngsters away. Shot in the head on a dense jungle knoll - There's a wife and a gravestone so they say. A thought for the man, a prayer for his soul. 1/13/2018 For contest The Magic of Three for Broken Wings