Letters

Just ink stained hands
And a pretty face,
Or so she seemed,
Writing of nothing
But a hope and a dream.

Just a solider…
A fighter, but a
Mere man nonetheless. Worn hard
By war and love
And by not knowing.

She never knew,
And he never knew nothing.
All they knew was
Harsh and hard
And cold and Love.

We know it as a conundrum,
Yet who doesn't know Love?

I thought you had forgotten me.
But I came back…