You stand on the beach,
a brunette,
in that flowered dress,
that look of wonder
on your face,
staring at the photographer
as he holds his camera at you,
the shoes making footprints
in the yellow sand,
the flannel trousers,
the white open-neck shirt,
his hair close cropped.
It is just before
he goes off to war,
off to England
for some big deal
going on over there.
You have your hands
at your sides,
trying not to break
into a smile,
trying to keep
a serious pose.
You wish he would get on
with his photo taking;
that he'd put the **** camera down
and come over to you
and hold you
and kiss you,
but still he waves a hand
to hold the pose.
You stare at him
with your serious face,
but deep inside
something feels wrong:
another beach,
and him there lying
in the sea,
blood about him,
and far far from you.
You look away
at the deep deep blue.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
You stand on the beach,
a brunette,
in that flowered dress,
that look of wonder
on your face,
staring at the photographer
as he holds his camera at you,
the shoes making footprints
in the yellow sand,
the flannel trousers,
the white open-neck shirt,
his hair close cropped.
It is just before
he goes off to war,
off to England
for some big deal
going on over there.
You have your hands
at your sides,
trying not to break
into a smile,
trying to keep
a serious pose.
You wish he would get on
with his photo taking;
that he'd put the **** camera down
and come over to you
and hold you
and kiss you,
but still he waves a hand
to hold the pose.
You stare at him
with your serious face,
but deep inside
something feels wrong:
another beach,
and him there lying
in the sea,
blood about him,
and far far from you.
You look away
at the deep deep blue.
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