Summer sun reflected off a wheel chair holding half the soldier he used to be in half the body he used to have the dent above his left ear now hidden in his hair.
His mother buys a popsicle and places it to his lips while on the green little boys play, yelling as little boys do soccer ball half kicked, veering toward the chair as he lifts a withered arm, covering his widened eyes.
Little boy says he’s sorry, calls his brother asshole and when he leaves, momma tugs the left arm wound tightly around his face uncovering the vacant stare and open mouth
emitting a soft sound almost like her little boy at her breast so long ago.
I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004.
We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world.
I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday.
I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics.
:-)
You say you try to write poetry. I say you sucede. This is an especially evocative one. Well done.
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Thank you Weggie. Regards
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i agree with weggieboy. You are a poet. Beautiful and insightful.
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Beautiful – Many thanks for the kind remarks. Regards.
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Poignant images – heart-touching reminders of the cost of war and how many pay the price.
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Many thanks Carol – glad you liked. Regards
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