Without Shudder Or Sound

I remember the time, I remember the place. I remember his eyes, I remember his face. That’s what he said to me watching the leaves fall from the trees. In the peace of the freedom in this tranquil green place. The leaves fall from the trees and swirl to the ground. The air or the gentle autumn breeze cushions their fall without a shudder or sound. But the soul of a man leaves his body after the gun bangs. His body catches no cushion of air as it crashes to the ground. He picks the leaf from the floor and feels a swell in his eyes. Fifty years ago, or more and still the memory makes him want to cry. A full life he has lived, many memories he’s had. The dreams in the dark of the night have sometimes been good and sometimes bad. He holds my arm as he stands and takes the leaf to the stream. He closes his eyes, frees the leaf to the flow and asks the soft winds to give the slain soul a place to dream.