The dance of war
as those whom remember
throughout…
November eleventh,
quietly knocking
at the enemies backdoor..
A whisper within
a soldier’s dream..
The battle cries,
as to the enemy, does
painfully scream…
Memories of laughter
an homestyle lov,
listening to children’s
banter,
an the cry of seagulls
among those
floating high doves..
A driving force
far greater than heaven
high above,
the memories of home
an all that lov…
Some never recovered, possibly on the surface but the scars are there forever.
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Not war, however a battle within home…
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