Treasure Island

Mark Heathcote

(22/03/66 / Manchester)

On his home leave


I was laughing cold in the snow
I felt quite centred in his arms…
As my heart beat; like a banjo.
As the sun sank orange and pre-warms.

My heart for a season of new tears
As he goes to be awarded his stripes
—You’re Purple Heart. All my fears
Was a foreign soil of endless gripes?

Oh I was laughing cold in the snow
When I heard his padding feet go…
Not knowing when he’d return
Like a summer blossom to govern.

Oh I was dreaming I joined his ranks.
And as we took fire in a bunker
Shrapnel, standing on the gangplanks…
Entered my porcelain; white shoulder.

And then again laughing cold in the snow
I felt quite centred in his arms…
As my heart beat; like a banjo.
As the sun sank orange and pre-warms.

The surgeon’s knife he was my guardian angel.
And as I was the snow drifting, before his gaze
He compacted my wounds repaired every vessel.
And seamlessly, I awoke to all my birthdays.

I was laughing tenfold in the snow
But this time it was confetti - instead.
As my heart beat; like a banjo.
I beheld his warm embrace on top of our bedstead.

And I gave him a heart of my own…

Submitted: Sunday, September 29, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013

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