Him and the war

He marched off to war , his steps resembling gunshots to my already frail ears ,

My heart a conundrum,

A split between late nights of worry and ripe mornings of waiting,

His spirit matched his patriotism , my heart matched my despair,

Hope and desperation bled through my calligraphy,

My prayers unanswered, I walk to the postbox everyday,

Fifty steps all together, fifty, half of hundred, half of my heart,

Walk to and fro like a ritual , a prayer,

Waiting for the sunrise that will bring him back 

And let me sleep with good breaths


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