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His Cards Were All Marked at
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Post Traumatic Stress Disorder His Cards Were All Marked at
Sitting playing solitaire.
You reach absent mind idly
for the glass of woes!
While the music in your ears
brings back sad memories ,
from a time, never forgotten.
Slowly sipping,savouring,
the dark smokey liquid.
You drift back.
Cigarette smoke
lazily drifts upwards
While long shadows fill the corners
The eyes,
slowly begin to glisten,
cards shapes and colours blur.
The pitiful bulb fails to stem ,
the omnipresent darkness,
and despair.
Shadows morph
Both friends and fiends
You pour yourself another
Soon a face fills your thoughts.
Clear as day
of a time long past.
Now you're totally lost,
alone, and forgotten .
Exploding shells, blackness
Screams and ricochets .
With only the dead for company.
On the battlefield of
Darwin.
Giajl © Jim Love
