Between Wars

Ms. HaikuMs. Haiku Washington DCPosts: 7,003
His shadow, cornered by paid-per-day light
grafted with heat after World War 1 fights,
and underwritten in land prone to blight, 
moves in migratory patterns to night.

Over ten years before he signed for war
and spit with pride, then swallowed mud the ore
of geographical dances uncorked
by hands withholding care too late ignored.

Returned pink with peace viewing burnt red dreams
while hiding behind doors of his home esteemed 
for correct windows and topiary trees
built on fragile funds folded in bank seams.

One step, many steps he breathes in relief,
but through waves of miles he breathes out his grief.

There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
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