The daylight comes
and it is rare
that we are one,
breathe the same air.
Eyes cast up
among the clouds,
daring the Earth
to pull us down.
A frigid wind,
a blanket white,
but in our bed
the warm respite
from battles lost
and battles won,
we share one fate
of what may come.
The steel-grey sky,
the heavy sighs.
I know there’s pain,
or both our sides.
Today our wounds
will have to wait
and heal a while
while we abate.
Out of the strain,
out of the Sun
our tight embrace
of what may come.
The war remains,
it rages on.
The enemy,
tomorrow’s dawn.
The sweat and toil,
the conflicts go
on and on;
tomorrow’s sold.
Today is ours,
stolen away,
amongst these sheets
the world abstains.
A moment here,
a moment there
is all we get
in this affair.
Today is ours,
the world we’ve shunned,
still lies in wait,
of what may come.
HG – 2018
