Poattic
#Love Diaries
Echoes linger,
Of the rattle of guns
And the cold winter air
Reeks of the stench of war.
I sit within this mockery of a haven,
On one side of a border etched with
The ink of rage .
The light is faint
And my pen stumbles
Across the page
With words that are barely discernible.
Strange it is, that the hatred beyond
Is yet to touch my heart.
I love :
And these yellowed pages
That have traveled with me till now
Are witness to my love.
There is an ache within.
Perhaps my hours are numbered.
Her face appears on the pages
That I write upon
And beckons me.
If only she knows that
My fast fading breath
Will never let my love die.
Dear diary,
You shall live on
And when the morning light dawns,
Do travel to my home
And tell her of my dying thoughts.
Speak to her in the darkness of the nights
When tears shall clog her world.
Speak to the life that grows within her
Of a father who knew him well.
The night stretches before me
And I dream of flowers that bloom
On war torn paths,
Watered by yesterday’s tears.
What is this pristine light, I see ?
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