Her Picture

I carry her picture,
 keep it safe,
 and look at her
 by the light of the moon.
I’ve memorized every
 line of her body,
 the pattern of her dress,
 the glimmer in her eye.
She’s said we’d marry
 when I come back home,
 that she’d have my child
 and we’d have a home.
Yet each day is a struggle,
 each day is filled with darkness.
 If I never come back home
 will she lay a rose on my grave?
Her picture kept safe.
 She is all I live for now.
 To feel her arms around me.
 To be safe in her embrace.
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