The Letter

A fictitious story about a young man terrified of war and unsure of what he wants in life.

It all started with the letter

About how I should have been better

Than they who had gone before me,

Risking their lives for their country.

 

I closed my eyes when I let them down:

I withdrew my sword and threw it to the ground

And ran, to the chants of  "coward, coward"

smashing against me like sweet grapes that soured.

 

I found a lowly horse and saddle,

Mounted and decided I would not do for battle

And we rode through fields, valleys and streams

Living the life I'd only imagined in my dreams.

 

No soul about, but one woman who let me in

When the rain came down to wash away my sin,

She fed me, clothed me, spoke to me like a human being

She touched my hand when I told her what I was feeling.

 

We talked long into the night before resting by the fire

Burning slowly, filling the room with warmth and desire,

I rediscovered my passion for life that night

With the woman who had helped me to see the light.

 

Come morning, I could not bring myself to go back and see

the battlefield of broken men and wounds deep,

The woman asked me to stay with her but I declined;

I demanded she come with me and keep me being kind.

 

So off we went on my horse and saddle,

Off to fight a new kind of battle

Where men and women become one

And welcome the arrival of a daughter or son.

 

At the next village, neighbouring soldiers had heard

how one fool had left the scene and scarpered.

They'd search 'til they found him then persuade him to return;

They sent a letter to each inn, trusting he would learn.

 

The letter said how his parents had died

He had nothing left but the army on his side,

He would be better off fighting the good fight and seeing his parents again

Than living off bad crops, bad grain and eggs by poor hens.

 

Was it true? I questioned to her

She did not know, neither could answer

She wanted to leave, as did I

But would I be turning back to a life passed by?

~

The only thing that nearly stopped me

Was the letter I held upon my knee,

But I tore it to shreds as if it never existed

Like my old self, who should have never enlisted.

 

Although had he not,

His quest for life would mean sot,

And his woman he would not have met

The best thing that happened since he became in debt.

 

During the late hours of night we escaped

Our horse's hooves stained the land and scraped

the path we would never again beseech;

We made sure we would never be in reach.

 

Author's Note

-Not my best work but amongst forgetting to enter this into a certain contest, I lost the flow :(
-I am aware the rhyme scheme is quite poor in places but this is the first long ABAB poem I've written in a looooong time!

Reviews

[Angel's Lady]

I think we all want to 'run away' at times. Heck, as writers, that's what we're doing anyway, isn't it? haha Good write!

[SM Davis]

I think I must disagree with your note...well...at least play devil's advocate. I have read some of your things, and this is very good. A nice read on veteran's day here.