Deutsche Kriegsgraberstätte

By Andrew W. Stevenson

The most beautiful place

on earth at that moment.

Resting place of soldiers died, 

deep in the hills, by rippling water

where birds kept nests

in shading trees. And sunlight

seemed to make sounds 

to keep the souls soothed, 

in land that wasn’t their own.

Nowhere near their home.

I felt so in love then. And

for that love to be shared.

To disappear with her there.

With all the knowledge of greater calm.

Palm in palm.

One look. One meaningful stare, 

to share what we were, then and there. 

But she turned away, 

Appreciated, yes, the Beauty

for what it was. But nothing more, 

and nothing less.

No deeper significance.

Or maybe, afraid to let it in. 

Conscious

Of those brave men

buried under us. 

Rid of sin.

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