The Letters

Every day,

down in the trenches,

he wrote to her,

his heart longing to be with her.

And back home,

in special box,

she'd kept every single one,

an aching pain in her chest,

desperate for him to return.

Every night,

she woke from terrible nightmares,

of him,

in the trenches,

surrounded by bodies, and bullets.


And then,

all of a sudden,

that fateful day came,

when there was no letter,

Nor the next,

Nor the next.

And never again did she recieve a letter


When the others came back,

there were parades,

and celebrations,

but she stayed home.

She knew he was not there.


But a friend of his,

finally found her,

on her death bed.

He had the final letter.


She saw it,

and again wept,

at the last letter,


and blood splattered,

ink running down the page,

but they were there,

his last words,

to her;

I miss you.

The End

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