He would pick daisies for her
as they walked along the road.
The water under the bridge rushed
but he didn’t.
He would hold her hand
and they would lie
under the Sycamore tree,
staring at the sky
and dreaming
of their future.
Then one fateful day
he got a letter
from Uncle Sam.
He was called to fight
in a war that made no sense.
she cried
and he tried
to make the best
of the situation.
in ’73
he returned
battered and bruised
inside and out.
Ellen was gone
and so was the sycamore tree
nothing but a memory.
This tragic little story is brought to you by Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers. Please follow the link below for more stories.
