undone mauve
Off through fields lined with picket fences,
Clothing torn asunder upon the branches,
Oceans sit with calm demeanor,
A manner not typical of the scenery.
Sailors sleep amidst the calm waters,
Dreaming of home with their sons and daughters.
Harold was a young man of nineteen,
He passed his exams but not too very keen,
He would look out longing over seas,
As the breeze passed by,
The scenes of fire and smoke filled his eyes,
Powder and arsenic filled the air.
His mother had asked him
"why do you rush off so early, is there
nothing in this world but to study?"
His heart reflexed, the clock kept ticking,
Louder and louder,
"Mother I address with highest respect,
I do not belong at a financier's desk."
His heart pounds, palms sweat,
He approached his father,
"My father I address with the greatest
respect, bid me farewell so I may see
the seas burn with a fire glow and watch
stars fall on smoke filled nights."
His father raised his eyes and said,
"My son do you wish to end up dead,
my father, your grandfather, barely made
it out with his head, yet my own son
wish to cause his mother dread."
The clock ticked again, not hours, not minutes
Seconds fly by, tick, tick, tick,
A cannon fired Harold said,
"For all my service to you and my mother,
I never mean to be such a bother,
I will go in joy if I get your blessing,
I will go in dread if you deny me my.
wishing"
His mustache twitched,
"Very well then go about your way,
you will come to your senses another day,
until then do not come around again,
your mother and I will not give another
hand."
Out the door, down the road,
Called his name a pier stood,
Harold got on a warship,
With guns as large as the hills
He played in as a kid.
At that pier the smell of salt,
Gun powder, ashes, metals,
He walked across the bridge
Nearly losing his balance,
The wind set to steal his cap,
The ship sets sail as nine today,
He hurried alone to pack away.
Eight days away from shore,
Eight days till he is to moor,
A call came in from a distant land,
A call for every boy and man,
Not dreaming was he who dreamed that day,
The day they set their bombs away.
Doooommmm the cannons fired,
Crack the fired shells fly higher,
Harold stood and watched the shore,
Flames arose and and shells explode,
He set his mind on the ones ashore,
Thinking of how their lives may be changed by war.
The cities filled with heat and shrapnel,
The streets covered in stones and gravel,
In the countrysides blasts are fewer than many,
Off through fields lined with picket fences,
Clothing torn asunder upon the branches.
The ocean sits calm and neutral,
Unnatural for the tide it bolsters,
"Let me be swept away in dreams,
That I may witness this again another day."
The air filled with smoke and ashes,
The scent of arsenic fell in passes,
The breeze carried gentle powder,
That passes shore every half hour.
humble sinew
white current