Poattic 

#Love Diaries 

Echoes linger,

Of the rattle of guns

And the cold winter air

Reeks of the stench of war.

I sit within this mockery of a haven,

On one  side of a border etched with

The ink of rage .

The light is faint

And my pen stumbles

Across the page

With words that are barely discernible.

Strange it is, that the hatred beyond

Is yet to touch my heart.

I love :

And these yellowed pages

That have traveled with me till now

Are witness to my love.

There is an ache within.

Perhaps my hours are numbered.

Her face appears on the pages

That I write upon

And beckons me.

If only she knows that

My fast fading breath

Will never let my love die.

Dear diary,

You shall live on

And when the morning light dawns,

Do travel to my home

And tell her of my dying thoughts.

Speak to her in the darkness of the nights

When tears shall clog her world.

Speak to the life that grows within her

Of a father who knew him well.

The night stretches before me

And I dream of flowers that bloom

On war torn paths,

Watered by yesterday’s tears.

What is this pristine light, I see ?