My Eleanor
MY ELEANOR
Darling, yet another day is past gone,
While we rest from the battle; losing not just one.
As the wind of pain blows round our camp,
Affixing to many hearts its bleeding stamp,
I sit, on the warm sand, gazing at the moonlight,
With thoughts glued just on you, my sunlight;
The only object that holds my sanity
In this jungle of blown absurdity.
I gladly call to mind our parting act,
Drenched in showers of the passionate art.
I long, unbridled, for your charming form –
A comfy shelter from this storm.
Till we meet again, after this dreadful tour,
This is from me to you, my lovely Eleanor.
(c) Ikenna.C.Igwe, 2012
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