Poetry Corner

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You will pardon me a small digression, but I composed the following free verse over the long holiday weekend deep in uffish thought and mutable memory.

I share it here simply to place it on the aether, not due to any illusions about it’s merits but because perhaps, if I do, somehow he will be able to read it.

I am not expecting him to reply.

Lost

You spent the last years of your youth learning to fly for your country, yet never soared again once peace broke out.

You passed years in an Asia fractured, yet never returned once the pieces were picked up.

You watched Europe whirl past through a transport’s frosted window, yet never walked it’s streets.

Did you long to fly, to nurture, to explore? Were delicate dreams offered up to wife and children and career?

Was anything lost?

What did you desire as a boy?

What did you fear as a man?

Did you look back and see a job well done?

Did you look back and feel you had made the right choices?

As you watched your world diminish did you miss anything at all? Was anything worth fighting for besides crude longevity? Anything at all?

Did you know the end was approaching, like a seaside wind in August?

Why did you never share the slightest hint of who and what you were with me?

Was anything lost?

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