The Fifteen Thousand of Gettysburg
Warm beautiful day in May
light gentle breeze crossing the sea
touching blossoms of almond trees
along the sandy magenta beach.
Beautiful as a flight of swans
among white dotted blue sky,
golden hair moved by the breath
of the early morning breeze.
Slowly leaving on the wet sand
foot prints; brings memories,
forgotten by the misty clutter past
and want not to bring forth.
Filled past of unhappy phantoms thoughts,
thoughts never to cross again, but into the
and return to tortures and not rescued
from any source, begging again.
Warm day in May, aroma faint
in the air, the verbena is blooming,
foot prints in the sand still,
clutter memories, don't go away.