Fronds of grass
Struggling toward the sun
Cutting through the earth
With their sharp green shoots
Sun streaming through the branches
A perfect breeze for a perfect day
The world is still
Near the bark of a fallen tree
Lies a young man in repose...
His skin is fair,
The wind plays in his hair
Almost a child
With tender spots of pink
Around his ears, the nape of his neck
A young soldier wearing his uniform
Golden buttons adorn his chest
Right above his heart
A clean round hole
The war came by
He is gone
Colette Anne Naegle
Copyrights 2005