The soldier’s wife

The wife walked with
her soldier husband
down love street,

its narrow walkway

beyond the cloudy ruins
of political reasoning.

She was happy then

and they kissed beneath
a sunset that swooped
possessively.

Plans of children
stained on their hearts -

- laughter and love hanging
on leafy lined streets

carefree and lost in mindless
love,

that stretched the sun into a monument
of smiles.

Then she was a widow –

and silently the world sank -


- War is hell she used to say.