Fay Slimm.

Love\'s Call.

 

 

Love\'s Call.

 

In the thick black bark of sleep a familiar image
cuts through dreaming\'s anchor
as his call imprints stress on her famished mind.

 

New day\'s sharp sun stirs to brew more acid taste
of empty aloneness
and summertime weeps in grass-widow anguish.

 

Scent of past bonds lose their steady as fear rises
to invade her waiting
and bloom of hope dies with chilled apprehension.

 

Kiss of farewell left her lips ever wet with shed
streams of tears rivering
inwards for bravery crumples from anticipation.

 

Now distance divided, his battle- bruised longing
yearns for cessation as
gun-hounded eyes can see only the futile of war.

 

She, hearing love\'s call sadly asks will he return.