All I know is what he writes her. <br />What she says or doesn’t <br />must be guessed between his lines. <br /> <br />It is September 1918 in Battle Creek and raining, <br />she’s somewhere in Illinois where it is not. <br />He waits to be shipped across the Atlantic <br /> <br />and kills the hours with burning words <br />promising his Yankee lass that no French girl <br />will get his best. <br /> <br />He remembers a little of what he learned <br />of the Gaul tongue and by the end of his letter <br />he writes her adieu not knowing his fate is cast <br /> <br />in a pine box draped in bleu, blanc and rouge <br />while hers in red, white and blue <br />half a century and a score in the future. <br /> <br />~~~ <br />Alex Nodopaka Aug©2009 <br />AD Something<br /><br />Alex Nodopaka<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-half-century-apart/
