There is history
In your eyes,
Strung in long
And winding threads
Behind the freshness
With which you meet the day.
A single bugle can tug
Loose the nights
Trundled so carefully
Under your solid
And steadfast living.
The glimpses you have shared
Have helped color
The way I see the world,
What it can be,
And how this promise
I know as the future
Lies in furrows and
Trenches,
Frozen on mountain tops
Marked by sacrifice.
Categories: Poetry