August Moon
He hailed from Dartmoor, near the prison town
While she was born to poor folk on the moor
They chanced upon love’s passion, so profound
And met just months before the start of war
She knew he was the one, when he first spoke
Although she can’t recall the words he said
The smoothness of his baritone just broke
Whatever inhibitions that she had
The short time that they had, they spent together
Although they did not know that at the time
Long evenings on the moor and in the heather
Their love affair cut short, before its prime
By August Moon, the Kaiser conquered Belgium
And calls went out for men, to fight the war!
This tragic turn of fate, although unwelcome
His honor made her love him all the more
Her eyes revealed a trust he could not vex
He had to rise, and be the man she saw
He would not disenchant the weaker sex
He vowed his heart must have the wherewithal!
She watched for his return through all those years
And no one ever claimed to see her cry
She promised that she shed her final tears
The last time that they kissed and said goodbye
The way you open this up I feel I am reading the Mists of Avalone. I like this
Thank you!
Brilliantly penned, Reggie. An incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
You are too kind.