Forever 1942
Her image remained, faded sepia,
Worn in creases, matching his own,
Comfortable, familiar in his hands.
His fingers traced the line of her smile,
Through the years.
Her eyes, deeply captivating, held his own.
He still heard her voice,
Soft and husky,
Whispering on every breeze.
Could taste the cool, soft sweetness of her skin,
On his lips.
Oh, how sensual she was...
Her every movement, enchanting.
Her entire being, alive with wonder,
His senses, kindle to her flame.
First love...
And he had fallen,
Quickly...too quickly.
He turned over,
The flipside,
Handwritten.
Vivienne, 1942, with love.
He lay back. He remembered...
Her head thrown back, turning to greet him,
Her laughter filling the air.
She had fallen too, quickly.
He still missed her terribly. The 9mm did not.
The Last Post rang out.
His heart,
Bound by history,
Broken,
Into pieces.
Heady notes of Gingham and Lavender lingered long after...
She had left.
Photo credit: Suzy Hazelwood
https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-s-face-3196977/