Scarlet plums for cheeks,
His cherub face
Wore an expression
More suited for angelic beings.

At 19, his heart was
Warm, still malleable,
Kind, of a generous sort.

He once gave his coat
To a freezing man,
Though it did not
Stave the man’s demise,
There was shelter in the cloth,
And for that, all were grateful.

He finally met her near his 23rd year.
She wore a modest scarlet ensemble,
And she twirled a matching parasol.
They married under a trellis
Of blooming scarlet roses.

When he was recruited
To join his country’s army,
The condition of his soul
Would not allow him to kill another
Of any colored uniform.
Trained to the contrary,
He lived every day
Carrying a weapon,
But promoting amity
As much as any soldier could.

The day before his 26th birthday,
His team invaded a small village.
There were too many women and children,
Already gunned down
During a recent air strike.
Their blood spilled, scarlet
Onto the parched summer grasses.

That night, it was his watch.
His tears dripped
Onto the letter he always wrote her.
The ink ran of scarlet shock,
As the paper mourned itself
Of the gentle soldier’s veins.

07/17/2011

Author's Note: A themed challenge, and I had to use the word Scarlet.

Posted on 07/18/2011
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie